


Inaudible Chaos

by HiddenEye



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: All Galrans are pretty much human tho, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Because I'm not me without tossing in some pain, Blood, Depression, Flashback, Fluff, Gen, Human Haggar, Human Sendak, Human Thace, Human Zarkon, Hunk just needs a hug okay, Hurt/Comfort, Love my strong son, M/M, Mental Illness, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Racism, Older Characters, Self Confidence Issues, Siren!Lance, Torture, bad memories, siren au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-08-28 11:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 29,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8443483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenEye/pseuds/HiddenEye
Summary: And then, Lance leans forward until their foreheads touch, and when Hunk breathes in a deep breath, he realises he doesn't smell what he usually does when they're close like this.He doesn't smell the sea on Lance.-    And when the sea roars,The earth hums with excitement.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has two parts to it, where I've actually been working on this for months because I have too much work to actually finish this in one go (I'm drowning in assignments someone pull me out pls). I'm already half-way through the 2nd part, and I'm hoping to update this as soon as I can since this has only two chapters, while at the same time trying to overcome my shitty inability to update any of my fics.
> 
> And just wanted to inform you that the violence comes after this chapter though. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you'll enjoy this! 
> 
> Kudos, bookmarks, and comments are highly appreciated :)
> 
> Edit: I added a few more things to the summary.

Hunk isn't one for specifics when it comes to explaining his condition.

The doctors keep asking the same questions every other week that he knows they're only there because they _have_ to.

It's their work, after all.

And he doesn't blame them really.

Therapy isn't exactly a happy place to be when one knows the condition of oneself.

Especially when one wakes up after a two year coma.

Dr. Collins still has the crisp white coat she wears whenever she sees him, large round glasses perches itself on the bridge of her pointed nose from where she folds her legs neatly in front of her with a clipboard in one hand while a pen in another.

She gives him this smile that's a bit different than others; it's more genuine he supposed, softer around the angles that it's a momentary relief than facing the other doctors' clipped and plastered ones.

He knows she's trying her best, he knows she’s determined to make him feel better bu offering a firm but careful hand that he's grateful, really.

But sometimes, when days are worse than the rest, he feels like he's being experimented, watched carefully under a microscope that the walls seemed to be closing in onto him.

It suffocates him.

“How are you feeling, Doctor?”

The title he used to carry proudly has no meaning to him now.

He shrugs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together as the chair squeaks under his weight. “Fine.”

She doesn't blink as she scrawls onto the form, but he sees the way she pinches the corner of her lips slightly, and he knows both of them are able to see through their facades.

Hunk doesn't blame her.

She's only doing her job.

 

* * *

 

When he locks the door to his apartment, he dumps his wet umbrella at the corner before tossing the keys onto the counter, ignoring the blinking land phone from the living room as he makes his way to the kitchenette.

Opening his fridge, he contemplates whether if it's worth cooking the remaining of whatever meat he has before he has to go grocery shopping later.

Instead, he closes the fridge and makes his towards his bathroom, filling in the bathtub with cold water until it's full, before stepping into it fully clothed.

He submerges exactly ten minutes later, gasping for air the moment he so much breaks through the surface, clutching the edge of the bathtub tightly as he pushes himself up into a sitting position, gulping in mouthfuls of oxygen while trying to catch his breath.

Hair plasters itself to his forehead when he leans against the tiled walls, letting the white light of the bathroom shine onto him while he stares back at it.

Seven minutes later, he slowly stands up, feeling the way the water weighs heavily onto his clothes when he steps out of the bathtub, stripping out of his wet shirt and jeans before grabbing for his towel from the hook, wrapping it tightly around his waist.

He unplugs the bathtub, hearing the way the water goes down the drain as he walks inside his room.

 

* * *

 

“Teaching is a good profession.”

The hopeful tone in Shiro’s voice makes Hunk smile wryly. “I don't think anyone would want me as their teacher.”

“There's a local private college that's looking for engineering lecturers,” Shiro continues idly as he wraps a mechanical hand around the mug that Hunk has given him when he arrived; the striking metal is such a contrast to his flesh hand he rests on the dining table. “The fees are sufficient, slightly higher than a public university lecturer, and I was told that they'll be happy to welcome anyone who's interested.”

Hunk stares at him. “When you said you were told, you actually meant you asked them.”

Shiro presses a thumb on the handle of the mug. “Hunk,” he starts quietly. “they admire you.”

There's a bark of laughter, and Hunk doesn't bother to hide the bitterness that comes with it. “I'm the reason you have this, Shiro,” he remarks, tapping a finger against metal wrist. “And I think being a role model for the younger generation isn't exactly a good choice.”

“You know it was a malfunction,” Shiro tries to soothe him with soft words. They've done this before, and Shiro has been telling him this the moment Hunk wakes up from his death nap half a year ago. “You know there's nothing we can actually do about it when we were on Kerberos.”

“And you know we could have if I've been a little bit faster,” Hunk says thinly. “I'm the reason we dove head first into the damn sea, and I'm the reason why three of our other teammates died in another galaxy while Matt and you barely managed to survive.”

He remembers the sea swallowing him whole, remembers the salt in his throat and the way the water pulls onto his suit, causing his actions to be sluggish as he tries to kick through the hatch of the emergency cockpit, Shiro and Matt unconscious beside him while blood drifts from the stump of Shiro's arm.

He remembers feeling water choking his lungs, the helplessness that causes him to remember things he thinks he has forgotten long ago.

_Tan skin, short brown hair, shining blue eyes._

And then, he blacks out.

Only to wake up with several doctors around his bed, telling him at how much time has passed.

“The only reason Barnes, Chin and Blunt couldn't be spared was because of the meteors they didn't managed to dodge,” Shiro says sternly, grey eyes sharp as the storm while he holds Hunk’s gaze. “You had nothing to do with them dying.”

The memory is still vivid in his mind; blaring alarms, flashing red lights that he hardly remembers as he tries to swerve around the hurtling meteors with clenched teeth. Shattered helmets and crushed oxygen bags, grey and leathery skin with sunken eyeballs of his teammates staring back at him almost accusingly; and Hunk can't stop it from replying relentlessly if he wanted to. He tries to swallow the ball of emotion down. “I could have warn them sooner-”

“So could I.” Shiro cuts off. “So could Matt. If we're going to place blames, we might as well stamp it on all of us, but it was a disturbance that none of us expected, and it was dangerous enough that even after we tried to warn them, it was already too late.” Then, he pauses, slowly prying his fingers away from the mug as he leans back against his chair. “The only reason we're still alive was because you brought us here, Hunk. If it weren't for you, you and I wouldn't even be here talking to each other.”

Hunk has to bite back a retort about Shiro’s prosthetic arm, how _he_ is the one who took his flesh limb away from him only to replace it with an artificial by Pidge, Allura and Coran; where they’re more than gracious to make sure it fits Shiro perfectly without directly causing any internal damage to his spine and ribs when Hunk’s out cold in the hospital for two years. He can already feel the burning urge in his throat as he stares into the contents of his own mug, and if he squints hard enough, he’ll still be able to see the galaxy he remembers being in; vast, beautiful, while at the same time undeniably terrifying.

But he resists, because he's tired and he imagine Shiro is too.

“I’ll think about the job,” he relents quietly, raising his head in time to see the flicker of relief that passes Shiro’s expression. “If it's too much, I'll drop out.”

Shiro nods, reaching out to clasp a hand on Hunk’s shoulder, giving him a slight squeeze as reassurance. “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

At least, the paparazzi leaves him alone as he drives towards the college, wearing his best suit he can find that has to do with minimal ironing and fussing, before he arrives at the place.

He parks, and walks towards the huge building with calm and collected steps, ignoring the whispers of excitement from the students around him as he pushes past the double doors that leads him to a long hallway.

Looks of surprise are being exchanged from where all the students are standing, and the whispers gets louder around him when he hears a few of them calling for his name. But he only shoots a crooked smile at them generally before he hastens his steps, making a quick climb up the stairs while avoiding bumping into anyone alike.

When he almost arrives at the office, he slows down his pace, running a hand to smooth down his hair as he takes a deep breath, thankful that the hallway is at least devoid of anyone as he straightens himself up.

He knocks on the door.

And opens it when there’s an affirmative.

“Doctor Garrett.”

 

* * *

 

“How was it?”

Hunk continues to flip the strips of chicken in the pan, hearing the way it sizzles in front of him that he relishes on the smell and the sound; because when you're in space for eighteen months and lost conscious for twenty-three, you tend to miss the little things that happened before. “The students were cooperative.”

“That's good,” Keith continues from where he's assembling the salad. “It means they wouldn't give you so much of a hard time.”

Hunk purses his lips. “There were questions.”

“Limit them,” Shiro says as he walks into the kitchenette, leaning against the counter near where Keith is standing. “Tell them you won't be answering anything that has to do with Kerberos and that you'd prefer to focus on the lesson.”

“Threaten them with bad grades if it makes you feel better,” Keith adds, shrugging when Shiro raises both eyebrows at him. “They have to know when to stop.”

Hunk places the strips on the plate, arranging them carefully so that they rest on the generous amount of sauteed onions and capsicums he has cooked. “Yeah, I’ll try that later. The limiting questions part, I mean.” He smiles when he particularly feels the way Keith rolls his eyes while Shiro chuckles under his breath. “I hope they'll understand.”

“They’ll have to,” Keith says as he makes his way towards the dining room, holding the bowl of salad in one hand while grasping the necks of the bottled dressers in the other. “It’s rude if they don't make an effort.”

Hunk follows after him with the plate while Shiro makes a grab of the bag of wraps by the counter. “Hopefully, they don't get offended.”

“It’ll be fine, Hunk.” Shiro assures him as all of them sat around the small table, leaving a few chairs empty. “You don't have to be worried about it.”

“I'll try,” Hunk mumbles, starting his meal with the salad. “Where’s Pidge? Isn't she's supposed to be here already?”

“Apparently, she’ll be a bit late,” Keith replies while he helped himself to some chicken. “You know how she is, wear herself out until one of us is going to drag her out of that damn workshop of hers if she’s only surviving on coffee and junk food. It wouldn’t be the first time if we find out she's sleeping there too.”

Shiro shakes his head fondly. “Allura’s going to have a fit if she finds out. Too bad she couldn't join us.”

“Coran too,” Keith adds with a chuckle. “and then, Pidge’s gonna fight her way out of it as usual.”

Hunk smiles softly as he listen to his friends’ talk when suddenly, the doorbell rings shrilly.

“Probably Pidge.” He swiftly stands up before making his towards the door, unlocking it until the creaky old thing almost slams into Hunk’s face that he has to jerk away, hearing the huff of someone sighing in relief and the quelch of wet sneakers.

“Sorry I'm late,” Pidge says as she shakes herself out of her coat, throwing it on the hanger near the door. “The storm's an ass and I punched a guy in the face on the way here.”

Shiro peeks around the corner at her voice with a frown evident on his brows. “Really, Pidge?”

“And hello to you too.” Hunk laughs, giving her a brief hug that he’s able to smell the rain on her hair. “You're just in time though. We’ve just started.”

“And if you came a bit later, I would have finished your share of chicken.” Keith’s voice drifts towards them as they part.

Pidge snorts as she makes a beeline towards Hunk’s bedroom while Hunk himself settles at his place at the table again. “You wouldn't.”

“Watch me.” The pilot shoots back.

She comes out wearing one of Hunk’s old shirts that almost reaches to her knees and a pair of baggy shorts while rubbing her drenched hair with a small towel, tossing it at the back of sofa before plonking herself between Hunk and Shiro. “Thanks, Hunk. For making this.”

“Hey, we helped too,” Shiro nudges her arm gently when she rolls her eyes. “And what's this about you punching a guy?”

She shrugs as she fills her plate. “He was some idiot who thought it was fine to rob a small and unprotected woman in the streets while she's drenched to the bone,” Keith coughs to hide his laughter. “I think he's still crying in the alley from where I left him.”

Hunk clicks his tongue once. “Dang.”

“He _deserved_ it, that bastard,” She huffs. “And I just had a shitty day at work when one of my colleagues thought it was okay to do something I specifically told him not to and that would cause something to explode. Guess what? He did just that and something _did_ explode that caused us monetary compensation, and I would have punched _him_ in the face if he wasn't already on his way to the hospital for third degree burns.”

Shiro blinks at her, resting his fork on the plate with a clutter. “Jesus. Is he alright?”

“Survived.” She muffles through a mouth full of chicken wrap. “He’ll be off work for a month and honestly? I think the guy deserves a break after all the stress that's been going around the place.” She sighs. “I need a holiday, or just catch up with Downton Abbey because I missed a whole season of it.”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “You watch that show?”

She narrows her eyes defensively. “And?”

“Nothing,” he says simply with a shrug. “Just wondering, because I have every single episode downloaded and I thought you'd be interested in watching them.”

“Did you bring your laptop?” She demands quickly.

“Yep.”

Hunk raises an eyebrow. “Yes, you can all have a sleepover at my place overnight, thanks for indirectly asking.”

She and Keith exchanges a high five across the table while Shiro looks at him in amusement.  “I didn't know you like that show.”

Keith shrugs again, but there's a smile edging at the corner of his lips when he takes a bite of his own chicken wrap. “You watch Grey’s Anatomy, all 15 seasons of them.”

Shiro grins. “Touché.”

Hunk merely bellows out a laugh, causing the other three to join him that he thinks everything will be alright for a moment.

 

* * *

 

Thankfully, the day is sunny after Hunk leaves the campus, shoving his hands in his pockets while his books are slotted between his arm and his side, walking towards his car with a pace that suggests he isn't in any rush in a way.

Other than the questions that pops out once in a while before they can help it, he thinks that the students are alright with the fact that he doesn't want to talk about whatever happened with him and his crew two years ago, where they merely followed his wishes by giving their full attention in the lesson he teaches, intent on knowing every little word he speaks and to follow every step he shows when he gets towards the practical stuff of things. And slowly, Hunk feels himself getting into the rhythm of teaching, of being someone to depend on again but with lower risks of danger, but with the same amount of expectations his crew had of him when he's flying the spaceship towards and from Kerberos.

If he’s completely honest to himself, he’s starting to like the way things are going as well.

He still has his therapy sessions that he has to go to, and he has to make sure that assignments and college paperwork are enough to take his mind off that void that's been gnawing into his consciousness ever since Galaxy Garrison releases him from his position as the respected flight engineer of the organisation, where they'll be giving him a very long break until he's ready to bounce back into the spot.

He's surprised they even considered to relieve him, Shiro and Matt of their duties; Garrison is known for their ruthlessness after all.

But illness is still an illness whether or not it's something we can't see, and if Garrison is able to acknowledge it, then he supposed that's good enough.

He parks his car somewhere near the gates of the college, somewhere near the park. It's not that far but it has a number of distance between the building and his car that it gives him some time to calm down his anxious nerves in the mornings, fearing that he's going to have a meltdown in the middle of his classes as he let's the morning sun shine on him every day. He unlocks his car, and he's about to get in when he hears the scuffle of feet and the angry shout of someone who's going to punch another person soon.

Alarmed, Hunk sets the books in the backseat before closing the door again, fearing that students are having a brawl somewhere outside the campus as he walks towards the gate, standing right in front of it as he searches for them at the park.

And then, he sees three people advancing on one person at the other side of the park, and where the victim is still standing leisurely against a tree as the others are getting closer towards him.

Hunk pushes the small gate that leads to the park before speed walking towards them as he feels his instincts take over. Halfway there, he sees one of the three people he recognises as one of the college students lands a punch onto the person leaning on the tree, causing him to be jerked to the side as he holds his nose, faint laughter could be heard from him as Hunk speeds up into a run.

“Hey!” He shouts, and the four of them jump at the sound is his voice. The three bullies recognises him apparently, because there's a flash of fear as they scramble out of there as quickly as they can, leaving the person alone as he still holds onto his nose with his head bowed, blood seeping through his fingers.

Hunk quickly comes to stand beside him. “Shit,” he swears, quickly pulling out a small packet of tissues he has from his pocket -he's kinda glad that he even thinks of bringing it in the first place- before shoving one of them into the stranger's hand. “Are you okay?”

The person seems to freeze at the sound of his voice from where he's pressing the tissue to his face, whipping his head up that would have caused him whiplash as he stares at Hunk with utter surprise.

Hunk feels himself stiffen at the sight of those familiar aqua eyes, and feels the air stuck in his throat as his heart rockets.

“Lance.”

Lance blinks, the hand he has on Hunk’s bicep as an anchor slowly tightens when he’s starting to get hold of himself. “Hunk.”

The murmur that escapes past his lips causes Hunk’s chest to contract, and then he's pulling Lance into a tight hug that the other man answers it as enthusiastically as he is.

Hunk doesn't even notice the blood on his shirt as he presses his nose to Lance’s shoulder.  

“Thank God.”

 

* * *

 

Once the door to his apartment is pushed open, Hunk invites Lance in, where he's still pressing the tissue to his nose as Hunk locks the door behind him. The audible click seems to echo through the whole place that he resists the urge to shiver at how unbelievably quiet his apartment sounds; almost worse than when he's always alone now that he’s acutely aware of the presence of the other man beside him.

The whole time, he watches the way Lance takes note of his place fleetingly, where they have yet to say another word to each other than their names at the park, the ride home has been filled with only the low sound of the radio being switched on.

Lance has changed slightly in terms of appearances; he looks older than the last time they met, but still has the same strong physique Hunk remembers from where he's standing a breath away from him, tracing his eyes across Lance's broad but slightly bony shoulders and the lean curve of his spine. Hunk knows there is actually a thin layer of a brace made out of the smallest pearls woven together that from a distance, they would look as if they've been melted together, clasped around Lance's right bicep as it is hidden under the long sleeved cotton shirt he wears at the moment.

“Impressive place you have here.”

Hunk snaps his focus towards Lance, where he's staring at a photograph of Hunk and his friends on the fridge, his hip resting against the counter that's separating the hallway and the kitchenette. “Thanks,” Hunk says quietly, afraid to say anything louder that would cut through the tender air between them. “I try my best.”

Lance peers at him, where there's a faint shade of red crusted slightly on his knuckles as he gives him a genuine smile. “Of course you would.”

And then, he strides down the hallway with his usual gait of confidence Hunk remembers that it makes him feel giddy; because Lance is _here_ , with _him_ , because he forgets he used to have thoughts of never seeing the man ever again. “No, really,” Lance begins as he stands at the large windows that stretches across the walls of the living room, velvet curtains tied to their hooks to let in the sunlight that shines softly onto him while he overlooks the city. “This place looks amazing, even if it doesn't have a large stretch of sand like back at home.”

Hunk feels a pang of sadness at the mention of it, remembering the worried phone calls his mother would give him after he wakes up from his long sleep. He insists she goes back to Hawaii, where she's been staying at San Francisco with him at the hospital before this, not wanting her to see whatever it is that's going to happen to him later, and it takes a lot of influence for her to finally agree to do so.

Quickly pushing the thought back, he makes his way to stand beside Lance, a small worried feeling nagging at his heart. “And why are you all the way over here then?”

Lance gives a small snort, but he doesn't meet his eyes. “Not happy to see me, big guy?”

Hunk frowns harder at the obvious way he dodges the question. “I _am_ happy, but how long have you been here?”

Both of them know what he means, but Lance seems adamant in playing absolutely ignorant in the conversation when he starts to walk towards the kitchenette, straight to the sink.  “That guy punched me pretty hard in the face,” he says casually as he twists opens the tap, the sound of rushing water hitting the metallic sink can be heard from where Hunk still stands near the window. “Never knew it'd be _that_ hard, my eyeballs are still vibrating in my sockets I think.”

Hunk follows him and stands near the dining table, seeing the way Lance is staring at the running water with something akin to an ache that's visible in his eyes, his face now clean off blood that accents his broken nose.

The moment he stands near enough, he's alarmed to find that Lance’s skin is peeling as if he hasn't been taking care of himself properly, flecks of dead cells are sticking out of the collar of his shirt that they've already crawling over the column of his throat, beginning to edge their way towards his jaw. His usual flushed bow shaped lips are now cracked and dry, looking painful enough that they would be splitting anytime soon if Lance doesn't do anything about it sooner or later.

Hunk doesn't know what's happening, and helping him would be the only way to resolve this.

“Lance,” he calls out softly, seeing the way Lance blinks before he faces Hunk with a plastered smile on his face, turning the tap off. “How long?”

It's a different question altogether.

The mask cracks a bit despite the chuckle Lance huffs out. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Of course you do,” Hunk says without missing a beat, eyebrows scrunching up more. “How long has it been since…?”

When Lance looks away, frustration grows along with his worry. “ _Lance_ ,” Hunk whispers harshly. “How _long?_ ”

Lance still refuses to look at him. “Long enough.”

“ _Lance_.”

“Eight years, Hunk,” he declares with a rush of breath, gripping on the edge of the sink as he lifts his head to meet Hunk's unwavering gaze. “Eight goddamn _years_.”

Hunk sucks in his breath, wiping the side of his face. “Shit, Lance.”

Lance barks out laughter. “I must've look like hell if you're saying that.”

“No kidding,” Hunk replies wryly.

He's being unfair, he supposed, attacking Lance like this when he's on the verge of collapsing. But, Hunk thinks this is going too far and Lance may be a daredevil at times - doing things that can kill them if they weren't careful enough - but Lance isn't reckless enough to actually _kill_ himself. He _knows_ when the line is drawn and he _knows_ when certain things can be upsetting for the both of them. The fact that he's weaker than he’d like to admit is something Hunk will get to the bottom of finding out _why_.

Before that, though?

He needs help.

Hunk takes a step forward, causing Lance to morph his expression into something more wary that makes Hunk pause, and it stings a bit because Lance has never given him that kind of look before, and whatever happened is bad enough to make Lance be this way even towards _Hunk_. But, he quickly shoves the hurt away before Lance can see it.

Rocking on his heels for a moment, he contemplates on taking another step, before he changes his mind and instead rests his hand on the back of a chair. “There's a bathtub that you can use.”

Lance's expression falls slowly when he realises that Hunk isn't buying any of his attempts at making the situation seem more aloof, but he goes for a smirk to hide it. “Really? Maybe we can share it one day.”

Hunk swallows down the flush. “Stop it.”

“I'm sorry, but I recall you love to be in my space.” Lance scoffs.

“Lashing out on me won't change the fact that you need my help,” Hunk says firmly. “And it's obvious that you need it.”

Lance sets his jaw, and Hunk sees it the way it is as he resists a sigh.

_Stubborn._

That's not going to stop him though.

Hunk pushes himself off the chair he has been subconsciously leaning on for support. “I’ll get the tub filled.”

“You don't have to.” Lance informs him, making a show of straightening his spine to appear stronger for his own sake.

“I want to.” Hunk replies easily.

He takes quick steps towards the bathroom that he momentarily hears the way Lance follows behind him slowly, tearing the door open with a strong feeling of protectiveness that curls deep in his gut. Reaching out, he let's cold water rush out as he sits at the edge of the bathtub, very much aware of the way Lance is watching behind him.

Once three quarters of it is full, Hunk faces him. “I’ll leave to give you some space.”

He's about to step out when Lance suddenly latches onto his wrist. Hunk looks at him curiously, sees the way Lance opens his mouth once to say something that Hunk manages to catch the hint of sharp teeth that's peeking out of his lips, before Lance purses them together into a straight line. “Come see me once I'm in.”

Hunk nods, gives him a squeeze of his wrist as reassurance before he let's go.

Once the door is closed, he leans against it to catch his breath, running his hand through his hair.

Nothing happens at first, and Hunk is beginning to have this irrational thought of thinking it never will when there’s the sound of water being disturbed.

And then, there's a foreign curse loud enough for Hunk to straighten himself up in alarm, followed by loud splashes of water that he's already wrapping his fingers around the doorknob to barge in when suddenly it stops as abruptly as it begins.

Pausing, he can hear himself breathe heavily from where he's pressing his forehead against the door, his grip tightening when the unnerving silence crawls across his body that the air seems to be too chilly for his clammy skin, even if the weather today is excellent enough for kites to fly.

“I'm fine.”

With a whoosh of breath, Hunk lets himself in, and the sight in front of him makes the air stuck in his throat.

He's forgotten how absolutely enraptured he can be when he sees Lance for what he is. With his shirt and pants tossed into the sink, there are no obstacles to cover the lean torso that's half immersed in the water, wet tan skin glistening under the bathroom light from where he’s leaning his head against the tiled wall behind him with his eyes closed. Hunk lowers his own, and instead of the legs Lance have a minute ago, what occupies most of the bathtub is a beautiful blue tail; almost shimmering with various hues of blues that ranges from the lightest sky blue to the darkest sapphire that can usually be found deep within the caves.

Light coloured scales becomes smaller as they littered Lance’s abdomen, and the large fin at the end of his tail hangs over the edge of the tub until it almost touches the floor, drops of water that trails down causes a puddle to form beneath it.

And true to Hunk’s memory, the pearl brace is still on his right bicep.

Lance offers him a grin, sharp teeth flashing. “Hi.”

Carefully, Hunk threads his way through the wet floor, dropping to his knees once he's right beside Lance. And, he can see that Lance is already healing himself, his skin becoming smooth again while his lips have returned colour.

Hunk swallows slightly when he meets shining blue eyes. “You okay?”

Humming, Lance reaches out to brush the bangs away from his forehead, and Hunk feels the chilly fingertips touching his skin that he resists the urge to shiver. “Better.”

Hunk skims the surface of the water with the back of his fingers, causing ripples of small waves to flutter against Lance’s side. “Then, you can probably tell me why you looked like you were dying when I first found you.”

The hand on Hunk's forehead drops to the edge of the tub, accompanied by the lazy raise and fall of his tail that causes more water to splash on the floor. “No.”

“Lance-”

“ _No,_ ” pushing himself up to a sitting position, Hunk finds himself face to face with him, staring into those determined eyes that pleads with him at the same time. “Not now. Later, maybe, but just let me-” Lance visibly swallows. “Let me stay here for a while. Please.”

Hunk nods slowly, worry still rolling in his gut.

Lance let's out a soft breath of relief. “Thank you.”

He reaches out again, tracing the outline of Hunk's face with a single finger that he's forced to stay still, their gazes never breaking that he makes his own examination of Lance; dragging his eyes across the angle of his nose, the plump of his lips, curled lashes folded against his cheeks from where he’s intent on rediscovering the shape of Hunk's face, eyes hooded with concentration that Hunk realises he misses this, he misses _Lance._

And then, Lance leans forward until their foreheads touch, and when Hunk breathes in a deep breath, he realises he doesn't smell what he usually does when they're close like this.

He doesn't smell the sea on Lance.

“Hunk _._ ”

There's almost a tint of desperation in his tone; almost, as if Lance is afraid of showing it to Hunk that he merely holds his hand in response.

“You’ll have to tell me someday.” He whispers.

Lance tightens his hold. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

His mother says not to wander too far.

That's fine, Hunk doesn't want to anyway, he's content at the shore where the rocks are big enough for him to sit on, the waves crashing mildly against them from where the eight-year-old is going through the stash of shells he's collected during his walk that morning, the smell of sea salt filling in his senses every time a small breeze kisses his skin.

It's the weekend and he’s already done his homework last night, so that he's able to come out to find shells to secretly make a nice bracelet for his mother. He makes sure his chores are done too, because he wants to have the time of the world to find the perfect ones.

So far, he has found white shiny shells that almost reflects sunlight, soft pink ones that would stand out among the little reds and oranges he picks up along the way.

He suppose he'll be making a charm bracelet, from the way they tinkle on his palm when he takes out the last of them from his satchel, bottom lip jutting out in concentration while he rearranges them according to the way he wants.

After he's done, he realises he's missing another medium sized white shell he swears he has a moment ago. With a flash of panic, he rummages through his bag quickly, and groans when he finds out that there isn't anymore in it.

“Man,” he sighs, keeping the shells back into the satchel before he pushes himself up. “Now I have to find another one.” He slowly makes his way down the slippery rocks. “I hope there are more pretty ones like these.”

His toes buried themselves into the sand the moment he jumps down, a spray of those grains littering against his ankles as well as he begins to scout for any more white shells for the bracelet, picking up other types of beautiful shells along the way that he puts them gently into his satchel to avoid anything breaking.

Hunk finds himself looking in between the giant rocks, trying to reach for the abundance of those white shells right at the end as much as his short arms can carry, grunting slightly in effort from where he's holding onto the edge of rock above him.

“Come on, come _on_ ,” he whines slightly, huffing out a puff of breath that causes his bangs to fly up. “Almost there, _almost there_.”

He _almost_ gets it, _almost_ lifts it up, the smooth surface of the shell already brushing against his fingertips, when a sudden wave that's big enough to swallow him whole crashes against him on his back.

The force of it causes him to hit his head against the rock he's been holding on above him, stars bursting at the back of his eyes that he loses his grip and slips on the wet surface under him. Before he knows it, he's being dragged into the sea by the giant wave.

 _No no no no no_.

The sea looks hauntingly beautiful from where he's sinking down; sun shining from above that he's faintly able to see the rays of light reflecting against his limbs that's floating uselessly in front of him, locked into shock mood that his brain can't seem to comprehend the fact that he's in danger anymore and has shifted itself into a state of numbness. Blood floats around him as well, and he briefly thinks that the sting on his forehead is the cause why.

 _No, come on, Hunk._ Come on.

He tries to swim to the surface, tries to kick his legs behind to get some air to _breathe_ because he can feel the water filling in his lungs, but he's _stuck_ in this vast amount of medium that actually pulling him down but he wants to go _up_ come on Hunk swim up _swim up up_ up -

He's trying to shake himself out of his reverie, trying to move quickly, but there's little oxygen left and black is already obscuring the corners of his visions that it tires him so quickly, where everything feels heavy that he _can't_ do it anymore _he's sorry_ he's sorry he's letting his family down, he's sorry it's happening this way but he's _tired so so_ tired _-_

Just when he's about to let himself be at peace forever, he feels hands resting below his armpits, before the owner tugs him with a mighty jerk that they're already swimming towards the sun.

Hunk breaks through the surface with gasp of air, spluttering and coughing that he holds onto the stranger for dear life that's pulling him towards the shore.

The scratchy sand feels welcoming on his skin when Hunk's being hauled to the ground, where he's still coughing the water out of his lungs.

“Easy there.”

There's a hand that's rubbing his back, and Hunk only disposes the water from where he's on his knees, a string of saliva hanging onto his bottom lip while he tries to spat out the last of it.

It isn't until Hunk lifts his head up that the pressure on his back swiftly leaves, and he tries to blink away the spots that's dancing in front of his eyes as he sees someone making a hasty retreat to the ocean again.

“Wait!” he croaks out, pushing himself to stand on his feet that only makes him fall on his bottom. Gritting his teeth together, he tries again as he viciously wipes away the salt water from his eyes, staggering after the stranger. “Come back! I just want to - "

His eyesight isn't _there_ enough for him to see clearly, but what makes him stop in his tracks in surprise is the unmistakable shape of someone with a large tail diving back into the sea.

A blue tail.

He shakes away his surprise, and comes running into the sea now that there is some strength in his legs again. “Wait! Come back!”

Sea water crashes to his knees as he goes deeper, stopping when the water rests on his chest, frantically trying to search for his rescuer.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” He sighs, shoulders drooping.

Suddenly, he feels the same hands clutches his ankles and _pull._

He goes down under again with a shout.

This time, he’s being dragged somewhere he doesn't know. He kicks his feet out in impulse that only causes the grip on them to tighten, and their speed increases slightly that Hunk tries to free himself by kicking again.

And then, he tears himself out of the clenches the moment they've resurfaced, where the stranger let's go of Hunk that he swims quickly towards one of the lower rocks.

He climbs on one of them and slumps on his back, heaving in breaths quickly that his throat feels parched . It's a couple of seconds later when he realises he's staring at the ceiling of another huge rock that prevents most of the waves from hitting him again, where he's shaded by the sun as well that he thinks he's in some sort of cave.

Once he’s able to breathe properly again, he uses his hand to push himself up, and his suspicions are correct when he finds himself sitting right at the edge of the rock to where his legs are dangling while his feet is dipped into the clear water. When he turns to see the other end of the cave, he sees that it's not even far, maybe ten to twelve feet from where he sits.

When he faces the front again, he sees a boy staring at him from where he's in the water, bright blue eyes curious with wet brown hair splattered against his skull that Hunk thinks they can be the same age.

Hunk wipes his bangs away to look at the boy properly. “Uh, hi?”

The boy breaks into a grin. “I saved you just now.”

There's something strange about the way he speaks, as if he isn't used to speak the English language that his tongue is trying to get used to the foreign ways of using it. Hunk wipes his bangs away again when it drops to his eyes. “Thanks for that,” Then, he scowls slightly. “But no thanks for dragging me back here. I almost drowned again when you pulled me back into the water.”

The boy doesn't heed his complains, and instead, he slowly swims nearer towards him. Hunk remembers what he saw just now and scrambles to his feet, and the boy doesn't seem to be alarmed at the sudden gesture that he merely stops. “I saw you just now, by the way,” Hunk says quickly as he straightens himself up. “I saw what you are when you ran away from me.”

The boy tilts his head to the side. “See what?”

There’s a challenge in his tone, pulling his lips into a smirk that Hunk huffs. “You know,” Hunk drawls, doing vague gestures with his hand that only causes the boy to raise an eyebrow. “A mermaid.”

The boy blinks. “A what?”

“A mermaid,” Hunk says with a shrug. “It's something I read about in one of my old storybooks.”

The boy tilts his head to the side. “Is that what you humans call us?”

“Hah!” Hunk points at him in excitement. “So, you _do_ admit it.”

“Well, yes,” the boy floats on his back, and what comes out of the water is the blue fin Hunk sees at the beach instead of legs anyone else would expect. “We have a name for ourselves, and it's definitely different than the sound of _‘mermaid’_.”

Hunk drops his hand to the side when the boy goes back to his original position of staring at him. “What do you call yourselves, then?”

The boy seems to scrutinise him the slightest bit, as if he's looking for something that Hunk doesn't know. “It may be, _difficult_ , for you to rephase the word of my people, so I'm not going to say anything.”

Hunk crosses his arms, offended. “I can _learn_ , you know.”

The boy merely shrugs. “It's for your own good, don't want you to hurt yourself or something.”

He's teasing him, Hunk _knows_ this, but he only pouts harder. “Aw, dude, _c’mon.”_

“But,” the boy starts to swim backwards, circling in front of Hunk. “I can tell you my name.”

Hunk perks up at this. “Really? What is it?”

The boy grins widely, staying still again. “Laomereanes.”

“Lam- Lanreanes-” Hunk frowns. “How about a nickname? I mean, I can learn to try to speak your name properly without messing it up, but what about I give you a nickname for now? ”

“What's a nickname?”

“Something we call each other when we're friends,” Hunk replies to Laomereanes' wide and curious look. “Like, mine's Hunk. You can be,” he hums, thinking hard as he furrows his brows in concentration. “How about, _Lance?_ ”

“Lance,” he tries slowly, and grins again. “I like it.”

Hunk answers his look with an enthusiastic one of his own, and kneels down while jutting out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Lance.”

Lance eyes the hand in front of him, unsure what to do that he looks up to Hunk inquiringly.

“It’s a handshake,” Hunk says to his questioning look, and he shrugs. “I don't know how it started, but it's what humans do when we greet each other.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Shake my hand. Like this,” Hunk sticks his hand into Lance’s, and gives a firm shake.

Lance tries it once, and looks up towards Hunk with the same smile on his face. “I think I'm getting the hang on this.”

Hunk laughs. “Good to know, dude.” He stands up, another sigh escaping. “Now, I have to find more shells again, I lost my satchel when the wave hit me, and I wanted to make my mum a bracelet out of them too.”

Swimming nearer towards him, Lance rests his arms onto the rock that Hunk is able to see the way his eyes sparkle with excitement. “I'll help you look for them if you promise me to tell me _everything_ humans do.”

“Everything?”

Lance nods. “Yes.”

Hunk grins. “Deal.”

 

* * *

 

“What do you do now?”

Hunk blinks, looking up from where he's going through his students’ reports they've passed up. Lance studies the Neil Armstrong bobble head Keith gives him as a joke the first time he moves here, just before he flies off to Kerberos. Lance has changed into one of Hunk's t-shirts, one that hangs loosely around his shoulders that the sleeves almost reach his elbows with his own jeans. “Well,” Hunk begins, gesturing towards his laptop with a wave of a hand. “I teach.”

“About?” Lance asks as he carefully puts back the toy on the small side table full of photographs, before facing Hunk fully from where he's seated on the sofa. “Astronomy? Physics? Astrophysics?”

“Engineering,” Hunk corrects, scanning through the report. “They're short of lecturers, so I thought I’d join.”

“What happened to being an astronaut?”

A crooked smile appears whether or not Hunk wants it to. “It didn't work out.”

“Why not?” There's a scrape of a chair as Lance sits in front of him, frowning slightly. “You used to tell me that's what you've always wanted to do. You even went to that military university.”

_And left me._

Even if the words aren't spoken outrightly, Hunk knows nonetheless, as much as Lance knows about him. “Things got complicated, Lance,” Hunk runs a hand over his face, the same heaviness he's been feeling before this weighing him down again. He tries not to show it though. Lance doesn't need to carry the burden with him. “And it's bad.”

There's a slight pause as Hunk blankly stares at the screen in front of him, his focus running every time he so much thinks about it, and guilt drags him down once more.

“Tell me about that place.”

He looks up in surprise, and Lance smirks at his expression. “I've heard enough stereotypes to know that college can either be the best or worst place for you to be in your life.”

Hunk raises an eyebrow, a smile itching at the corner of his lips. “Dunno about ‘the best’, but the worst is a familiar concept to me.” He chuckles. “My friends made my college experience a bit more tolerable, so I'm sort of in the _okay_ side of the spectrum.”

“Did you get bullied, though?”

The tone is conversational enough, but Hunk knows better. “It happened years ago.”

Lance merely wraps his hand around the handle of the glass of orange juice before taking a sip. “I’ll kill them if I were there.”

Both eyebrows shot up. “No, you wouldn't. Because I won't let you.”

“I thought this type of shit only happens in high school,” Lance scowls, setting the glass carefully on the table again. “not when you’re older and should know better.”

“People will always be bullies no matter how old they are. For example,” Hunk continues to mark the report, looking for mistakes. “I've had racial slurs being tossed at me by a middle-aged white man just because I'm different from him.”

Lance curls his lips into a sneer, white teeth flashing as the grip he has on the glass tightens. Hunk eyes it warily. “Humans are so petty, I don't understand why should you hate your own type of people just because of their _skin_ colour.”

“Well,” Hunk begins, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “We're self-destructive species, if greed is not going to kill us, then hatred will.”

Lance stares at him. “That sounds incredibly stupid.”

Hunk only shrugs, because he has no comment on that particular topic when he knows Lance is just going to explode if he hears more of the things that Hunk's been through.

“Being an idiot isn't supposed to be an excuse,” Lance snorts, finishing the last of the orange juice before he makes his way towards the fridge, refilling it again. “And did your friends help you?”

Hunk smiles at the memories of Shiro, Keith, Matt and the others backing him up whenever someone tried to pick on him, he remembers training self defence with them because he doesn't want to rely on them fully until he would be just something extra they'll have to look after for. He doesn't want to be a liability, he _doesn't_. “Vehemently.”

“Good.” Lance nods in satisfaction, slamming the fridge door closed before he plops on the same chair again.

Hunk stares at him in amusement. “I can take care of myself now, y’know. I've learn a few things that could knock out someone cold at the first punch.”

“Are you _bragging?_ ” Lance snickers, and Hunk only rolls his eyes while plucking the glass out of his fingers. “And what's wrong with having a few extra hands to help? Like, _me?_ ”

“You're literally a fish out of the water,” Hunk says, trying to keep a straight face when Lance only gasps in mock indignation. “Can you even hold a punch?”

Lance scoffs. “I can't believe you're doubting me in this. I can literally toss you to the other side of the room, Hunk.”

“You can only do that when you're in the water.” Hunk points out, looking back to his work again as he smiles. “On land? Not so much.”

He's already immersed in his work that he doesn't notice the way the chair in front of him scraps back, and the sudden force that pulls his own chair back shakes him out of his thoughts as he looks up in surprise, only to find bright blue eyes staring back at him.

Lance has a hand on the back of his chair while the other is planted on the surface of the table, effectively keeping Hunk in place. There's a smirk on his lips, and Hunk feels the thrill that goes down his spine when he recognises this look. “You're so sure about that, huh?”

Hunk arches an eyebrow at him. “Who's bragging now?”

Lance hums in feign consideration, deliberately dropping his gaze to Hunk's mouth before looking up again, and _grins_ ; all sharp around the edges. “Wouldn't you like to know?”

“If we're going to keep answering each other's questions with our own questions, _nothing_ would accomplish and we'll be here all day,” Hunk reminds him smoothly, his hand having a mind of its own when it trails up the arm Lance has on the table. “And knowing you, you'd just keep on doing that.”

“What, doing things halfway?” Lance implies mildly, his arms twitching slightly when Hunk leans up to press his lips against the edge of his jaw. “That's an insult when you know exactly how I get things _done_.”

Hunk drags his hands down his ribs, fingers brushing the arch of Lance’s spine that Hunk feels the way he tries not to shiver. Hunk noses the underside of his jaw, causing Lance to tighten his grip onto the chair that he’s able to hear the way it creaks under the pressure. “You're definitely bragging.”

“I'm proving a point,” Lance laughs breathlessly. “When you so obviously don't believe me.”

“That's not true.” Hunk murmurs into Lance's skin, hands now resting on his hips. “I've always believed that promise of yours where we'll see each other again.”

When he gives a squeeze, Lance groans as his arms quakes, shaking in their wake that Hunk chuckles.

“ _Tease_.” Lance rumbles before he swoops down, catching Hunk's lips with his that everything at that moment seems to melt around them; and now, everything only concerns _them._

Hunk feels the way Lance wraps an arm around his neck, combing his blunt nails through his hair as he pushes his chest into Hunk's more, his legs barracking around his waist from where he's still standing on his feet, head bowed down to kiss the living breath out of Hunk because _Jesus fuck._

Lance runs his tongue over his bottom lip, a hint of teeth poking into soft flesh that Hunk only retaliates by dragging down his hands again to grab his ass, tugging him down so that he's sitting on Hunk, the line of his lithe body pressed against his that Hunk hums at the welcoming weight.

“Hunk,” Lance breathes, clutching onto his shoulders as he nips his bottom lip, a sharp pain shocks his mouth that Hunk thinks that Lance would have punctured it if he's done it hard enough.

Hunk trails his fingers under Lance's shirt, purposely slow that he can feel the way his muscles shift as the shirt is being rucked up, and Lance let's go of their kiss with a low moan when tilts his head back, to push himself into Hunk more that he can feel his dick rubbing against Hunk, the friction of their pants causing Hunk to growl lightly when he begins to mouth kisses up and down his neck.

He pulls Lance's shirt off with one swift motion before he's guiding his lips down the length of his collarbone, brushing and pressing with every repressed emotion he's been hiding from everyone else, all the love he has for Lance keeps locked in a box until it's time to break it open again. And now, _now,_ he thinks as he gives a lavish sweep of his tongue on the hollow of Lance's throat, causing him to squirm in his place that Hunk has to sink his teeth into the meaty part of his neck to _stop moving_ or he's going to lose it there and then; now's a good time to do so.

Lance tangles his fingers in Hunk's hair, tugging his head back so that their lips hovers above each other, breath mingling. “Hunk,” he rasps again, and every movement of his mouth brushes against Hunk's, where they tingle at every touch that he's almost _drunk_ with the sensation of him. “ _Please_.”

Hunk digs his thumbs into his pelvis, and Lance jerks forward on impulse that Hunk huffs out against his warm cheek.

He plants a soft kiss there.

“Come on then.”

 

* * *

 

Lance wakes up to warm sheets.

He blinks his eyes open, thankful that the curtains are closed so that no ounce of sunlight would stream in, where it'll probably blind him the moment he’s conscious. The smell of sex is still visible in the sheets when he buries his face into the pillow beneath him, Hunk’s scent filling in his senses as he stretches lazily across the queen size bed until his limbs pop, and then he’s sinking contently into the duvet again that he feels as if he’s one of the cats he used to watch lounging near the beach.

The empty space beside him is cold from where he's arm is stretched across it, telling him at how much time has passed since Hunk gotten up to leave for work. Lance curls himself towards it, trying to get the last of his body heat as the blanket whispers against his naked skin.

It's been awhile since he's been this peaceful.

He worries his lower lip, the intrusive thoughts of what happened in the past comes back without his consent that he tries to shut it out, physically and mentally when he screws his eyelids together while clutching the pillow in his fingers. From one memory to another, he _remembers_ , he remembers what he has gone through, and he remembers the threat that comes with it.

Abruptly, he pushes himself up into a sitting position that he ignores the slight dizziness that comes with it. The duvet pools around his waist, exposing his bare chest to the slightly chilly morning air around him while he runs his fingers through his hair, clutching those short strands with both hands.

It has happen to him for too long, long enough that he knows when to spot _them_ the moment he so much sees a glimpse of their monstrous people.

“Stop it.” He mutters.

He tears open his eyes, dropping his hands to his side as he begins to push himself to the edge of the bed.

He tries not to shiver when his feet touches the cool floor, padding towards the bathroom in the nude, ignoring his reflection by the sink and the chair as he twists the knob of the bathtub that a gust of cold water rushes out.

The sound of it hitting the surface of the tub makes him relax a bit, letting his fingers hang under nozzle of the faucet that causes water to hit his hand, dripping down his arm that he takes a brief moment of fascination to stare at those beads of dews running across his skin.

Once the tub is full, he twists it close before stepping into it, and the cold water feels a bit familiar that it calms him a bit more.

He settles down carefully, and waits.

It doesn't take long, and there's a spike of pain that shoots down his spine that he flinches, his breath hitching and the sound bounces against the bathroom walls.

He doesn't remember how many times he's seen himself change, but it's enough to make him feel some sort of hatred burning under his sternum, his legs combining together as if they're being stitched while scales begin to appear, gleaming at him almost mockingly that Lance has to look away for a moment to collect himself.

He remembers vividly of what they've done to him.

Once he's fully changed - the size of his tail being too big for the single bathtub Hunk has - Lance slouches down into the water more to let the water rest to his mouth, pushing everything out of his mind.

It isn't more than five minutes when he hears the front door open.

At once, he's alert, but he stays still from where he is, not making a sound as he hears the thump of boots getting louder while the owner is getting nearer towards the bedroom.

Lance is able to see the person coming in the room from the crack of the bathroom door, a single shadow moving around as it tries to look for something; rummaging through a bag of Hunk's that's located near his bedside table before pulling the small drawer open.

Lance straightens himself up, deliberately making a splash loud enough for the person to hear that he stiffens at the sudden sound.

Lance feels the inhuman glee thrumming inside his bones when he sees the person hesitantly walking towards his way, and even from where he sits, he's able to see the gun in the person's hand.

He runs his tongue on the inside of his teeth, feeling the pointy end poking into it.

It's also been a while since his last hunt.

_This is going to be fun._

The door is being pushed open fully, and standing in the doorway with a shotgun raised at his way is a young man with jet black hair, his indigo eyes flaring with caution - and even if he tries to hide it, some fear - while he purses his lips.

“What the fuck?” the stranger breathes, tightening his hold onto his weapon until his knuckles turn white while he stares at the blue fin hanging at the edge of the tub, eyes wide.

Lance softens his expression, before lifting his hand up as if to beckon the stranger to him.

“ _Hey_.”

The man freezes, slowly turning towards Lance with a blank look that only prompts him to lean at the edge of the tub, still smiling softly.

“ _Come here_ ,” Lance whispers, his voice humming under his words, holding his hand out for the man to take.

The man takes a tentative step towards him, and Lance has to admire his will, since most people would have given in the moment he speaks.

He tries again.

“You wouldn't want to keep me waiting, do you?” He murmurs again, still not taking back his hand.

There's a moment where the man stares at the hand for a second longer before looking back at him. And then, he let's out a small breath. “ _No_ , I just-” he swallows, now walking slowly towards Lance; from one step to another right until he stands beside him, his gun hangs uselessly on his side while reaching for Lance's hand with his own.

Lance looks up at him, wrapping his fingers around the stranger's wrist while giving him another smile of reassurance. “To your knees.”

He does as he's told, and Lance feels the hunger growing now that he can _smell_ him properly.

“Good,” Lance cooes, bringing his hand up the man’s arm, his nails passing his elbow and bicep before it dances across the exposed skin of his neck that makes the man shudder slightly at the touch. “Now, hold st-”

“ _Lance!_ ”

Lance snaps his head up, only to find Hunk gripping the doorframe as he tries to catch his breath, staring wide eyed at the scene being unfold.

The spell is broken when the man swears loudly, jumping to his feet as he backs away until he’s pressed against the wall behind him, holding out his gun towards Lance again with gritted teeth and fury in his eyes. “Hunk, what the _fuck_ is he?”

Lance ignores him completely when he swivels around to look at Hunk with irritation. “That was my lunch.”

Hunk glares back as both of them ignored the strangled “ _What?”_. “You were trying to eat Keith.”

“I would have if you'd given me the chance.” Lance huffs, crossing his arms across his chest while he tries not to pout too much. “Almost had him too.”

“He's a _friend_ , Lance.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that when he's snooping around your room?” He snaps back.

“ _Hunk_ ,” Keith seethes, still gripping onto the gun that it shakes a bit from the force. “Would you please explain what's going on before I put a bullet into that _thing_ that tried to eat me on the spot?”

“Keith,” Hunk starts, looking at the shorter man in the eye as he put his hand on the gun, lowering it down slightly. “Lance is a friend.”

Lance scoffs. “I can't believe you’re still using that even after last night.”

Realisation dawns in his eyes, and Keith swivels around to look at Hunk in disbelief. “You _slept_ with him?”

Hunk sighs. “Yes, but can we take this to the table? I was late to work this morning and I need something to eat now before I pass out.”

“You mean, _we_ need to eat before _both_ of us pass out,” Lance interjects with a raise of an eyebrow, still miffed that he's being disturbed as he braces himself against the edge of the tub, before hauling himself up until he sits on it that causes water to drip to the floor. “And you're back early.”

Ignoring his remark, Hunk rushes towards him as he slips an arm under Lance while the other one wraps around his shoulders, and Lance let's himself being carried with his arms snaking around his neck. He pushes his face into Hunk's cheek and takes a small breath. “Tell him to get out.” He hums into Hunk's ear, nose brushing against his skin that Lance feels another type of thrill at the way Hunk’s breath is hitched.

“I can _hear_ you,” Keith says flatly, already making his way out of the bathroom. “I'm going to call the others to come here so that you can explain to us what the hell is going on.”

The grip Lance has on Hunk tightens impulsively at the thought of many people coming to see him, but he slackens his grip before Hunk can notice.

Unfortunately, he did. “You can't tell them, Keith.” Hunk says gravely from where he's settling Lance down on the chair; one that Hunk uses to sit near him the last time he's been in a tub, and Lance sees the way Keith turns around to face them.

“They have to know what you’re keeping in your house, Hunk,” Keith replies evenly, eyes darting between them. He's still angry about almost being used despite his ability to hide it sloppily, but Lance doesn't care and only meets his look with what he thinks is a cocky grin. Keith narrows his eyes. “The fact that he looks comfortable being here means it's been a while.”

“I’ve always been comfortable with Hunk,” Lance pipes up, accepting the towel from said man as he lets it drape near his abdomen. “And as for how long I've been here, it's _none_ of your goddamn business.”

Keith looks like he's struggling not to blow a fuse when Hunk stands between them, where he's looking down at Lance with a stern look. “Stop it.”

Then, he turns towards Keith. “Just,” he purses his lips briefly. “Just, _please_ , I'll tell you and the others everything tonight. Not now.”

Lance can't help but notice the way the interaction that goes between those two, where it's clear that Keith is one of the people that Hunk's told him about when he's in college; and it's not that surprising if Keith teaches Hunk how to defend himself. Lance can see the way he carries himself when he walks, when he talks, as if he's being wary and alert all the time despite the way he tries to be calm by the way he speaks, making his tone almost monotonous-like.

And it's obvious that Hunk respects Keith highly.

Whatever it is that Hunk has on his face must have been enough for Keith to relent, because he softens his expression slightly even if his stance is still tense, before he looks away. “Fine.”

Lance feels a crawl down his tail before the scales begin to disappear. Once his wet feet touches the ground, he quickly tries to make himself look more decent by wrapping the towel properly around his waist, looking up to where Keith is staring the whole time.

He's able to see the way the muscle at Keith's jaw jumps at the pressure he puts, teeth gritted tightly enough that would have shattered his teeth if he's going to keep it up any longer.

Keith looks at Hunk straight in the eye. “I’ll be here with Shiro by eight.”

And then, he closes the bedroom door behind him.

They wait until the sound of the front door slams shut as well when Hunk let's out a rush of breath. “God.” And then, he looks down at Lance. “Are you alright?”

Lance merely holds onto the towel. “What a jerk.”

Hunk tosses him a pair of boxes and his shirt. “Well, you tried to eat him.”

“He was snooping around like some burglar,” Lance defends himself, slipping on the clothing. “I was only trying to make sure your place wasn't going to be ransacked by some creep.”

“By filling your stomach?”

“By getting rid of the evidence,” he corrects, and Hunk laughs quietly. “No authorities would be involved, and basically, it'll be fast.”

Hunk shakes his head in disbelief. “Keith's gonna kill you if he hears you say that.”

Lance grins. “We’ll see about that.”

 

* * *

 

There's something in the atmosphere that makes a cold trickle of sweat trail down his back.

It's tense, Hunk realises.

And he feels his anxiety kicking up a notch from where he has his arms folded tightly across his chest, leaning against the counter as he watches the way Shiro sits at the dining room, Lance in front of him with a surprisingly blank look.

Keith and Pidge stands beside on either side of Hunk, both listening carefully to what they're saying.

He hates that it has to be an interrogation.

“How long have you known Hunk?” Shiro asks conversationally, almost curiously, grey eyes effectively holding Lance’s stare.

Lance gives a half smile. “Long before any of you did.”

“Since children?”

“Yeah.”

Shiro hums. “Your name's Lance?”

“Lance is a nickname.”

“Oh? What's your real name then?”

Lance cocks an eyebrow. “Why would I tell you?”

“I'm curious.”

“Really? Or is it because your mullet friend here freaked out the moment he saw me?”

Keith bristles beside him while Hunk winces at the jabbing remark. Shiro merely raises a shoulder. “He said you tried to eat him.”

“Did he?” Lance asks without looking at Keith. “And you believed him?”

Shiro smirks wryly at this. “I learned that weird things happen all the time.”

“The concept of cannibalism isn’t exactly new.”

“It's not exactly cannibalism when you're a different species.”

“Ah, so you're finally acknowledging the elephant in the room,” Lance grins, a hint of his teeth peeking out of his lips. “or however the saying goes. Those things are weird.”

“What’s Hunk to you, Lance?” Shiro goes straight to the point this time, the planes of his face now stern as he directs all of his attention towards Lance, scrutinising him. “Why are you here?”

Lance barks out laughter. “I am here for _him_ , for I am _his_ as much as his body and soul are _mine_ ,” the grin is more of a bearing of teeth now, as if he's reminding everyone in the room of what he is, and he's not afraid of revealing that. “His bones and flesh are mine to keep.”

Hunk tries to swallow past his dry throat, feeling the way his heart bangs against his sternum at the blatant declaration.

Shiro leans back on his chair, unimpressed. “Hunk isn't a thing.”

Lance shrugs. “He belongs to _me_. And that is all there is to it.”

Shiro's attention is on _him_ now, studying Hunk with a look that gives nothing away except the small frown on his brows.

The only thing he can do is stare back.

Then, the doorbell rings, and Hunk takes that as a cue to move quickly, unlocking his door.

And standing there is Allura, hair tied into a bun on top of her head, a tired smile on her lips when she looks up to meet his eyes.

“I came here as soon as I could,” is the first thing she says as she steps into his place, exhaustion thickening her accent more when he let's her in. “But I’d have to go back to the hospital later, so I can't stay long.”

The moment she sees Lance, however, she freezes.

And he seems to recognise her as well when he shoots up from his seat, the sudden gesture causes the chair to drag back noisily behind him while the others jump with alert, eyeing him warily as he stares wide eyed at Allura, body tense. “It's _you_.” He realises with disbelief.

She blinks, before squaring her shoulders as if she's trying to take a hold of herself. “ _Lance_.”

“I thought you _died_ ,” he blurts out. “I thought they _killed_ you.”

“You two know each other?” It's Keith who speaks, gaze darting between the two of them suspiciously.

“Yes, and I didn't die, I managed to _escape_ and - ” she shakes her head. “Lance. They're not giving up.”

His breath hitches. “ _What?_ ”

“Wait _._ ”

Shiro’s voice rings through the whole space from where he's standing at the head of the table; back straight, lips pursed, his frown deepened. “What's going on here? How did you two know each other?”

Hunk notices the way Lance and Allura exchange glances, as if telepathically communicating with themselves that leaves something clenching in his gut. And then, Lance turns away with a small scowl, clearly not happy she won the quiet argument they shared.

Allura takes a deep breath. “Lance used to be under my care years ago, back when I was still an intern. That's when we first met.”

“And?” Pidge says. “Why did he thought you _died?_ ”

Allura grimaces.

It's Lance who answers, tone harsher than before.

“That's because she's one of the surgeons who disobeyed Zarkon’s orders when they experimented on me.”


	2. Part II

“That's _so_ not fair, Lance!”

Hunk sees the way he makes an exaggeration of a shrug, and huffs out a breath as the thirteen-year-old swims after him, stretching his arms forward. “You have a giant _fin._ That's like, _the ultimate cheating mode_ while swimming.”

“Or you're just _slow_ ,” Lance scoffs, now swimming backwards that Hunk feels slightly envious of his friend. “C’mon, Hunk! I _know_ you can do better than this. You have the stamina of a dolphin, and they're super fast in swimming that could last days.”

“Just because I sometimes surf after school doesn't necessarily mean I have great stamina,” Hunk protests, stopping as he lets himself float there. “Besides, I had _school_ , to which you don't, and that it can be exhausting when I have to practice for the upcoming game later while making sure I don't flunk my grades at the same time.”

The volleyball competition is coming soon, and he's been picked out by his coach to join the team ever since he was eleven where he's apparently impressive enough to play for his school. Hunk _still_ thinks he’s not good enough and that he's only picked because of some magical coincidence that the coach was watching him play during one of his free time. However, he still trains volleyball with his teammates whenever he can, right until he goes home exhausted enough that he has to drag his feet to his room to take a shower before plopping at his desk to finish off his homework.

On top of that, he tries to make time with Lance as well; where he'll mostly surf with the waves in a designated place where people won't see them while Lance swims along with him, both of them shouting and laughing loudly as they have fun with each others company.

Lance is a little secret that no one knows, not even his mother. It's kind of surprising, really, since he’ll always tell her everything or anything that happens to him or around him; because it's only the both of them and Ma needs some company after a long day in the humid kitchen of the famous hotel, where she’s the known chef that everyone likes to meet because his mother makes the meanest dishes anyone could ever ask for.

But, for some reason, Lance is an exception, and he thinks she won't exactly be impressed if he tells her he's been friends with a mermaid for the past five years. She's a very practical person with little tolerance for anything superstitious or mythical.

 _But_ , Hunk thinks as he watches the way Lance starts to circle around him. _Lance is very much real._

“You're tired already?” Lance taunts, facing right in front of him that Hunk’s able to see the way the orange light of the setting sun makes his blue eyes flash into something lighter, almost piercingly. “But we've only just started.”

Hunk splashes water at him. “I had volleyball practice. So, I'm sorry I wasn't able to keep up with your fast pace because of the fact that I have _feet_ while you have a _tail_.”

“Hey, don't blame Mother Nature,” Lance snorts, splashing water back at him that causes Hunk to spit out salt water. “It's not my fault you have those little flappers you called feet, and that they're incapable of making you go far in the sea.”

“Humans are mostly designed for walking on firm land, not swimming.”

“ _Excuses_.”

Hunk only splashes more water at him, and Lance shouts in protest before they start a full out war, swimming and surprising each other that causes laughter to erupt when Hunk starts to chase after him.

It's when the sky begins to turn purple when Hunk lays on the soft little beach in the cave they first met, Lance joining beside him that he's able to feel the way his shoulder is pressing against him that it makes Hunk feel relaxed as they rest, half of his tail immersed in water.

“Hey, Lance,” he calls out in the darkening cave. “Do you think your fin can change into legs?”

There's a pause, short enough that it can go unnoticed. “How did you think I dragged you to the beach when you almost drowned five years ago, Hunk?”

He blinks to the ceiling, before scrambling to sit up so that he can stare down at Lance with wide eyes. “You can actually do _that?_ ”

“Yeah, I can. It hurts a bit when I'm changing, but it'll only last for a second or two before I'm fine.” Lance grins. “Wanna see?”

Hunk nods. “Sure.”

Lance turns himself around so that he's on his stomach before he stretches out his arm towards Hunk. “Pull me out, will you?”

It takes them a moment, but Hunk manages to pull Lance completely out of the water as he guides him towards one of the rocks to lean on for support. And then, he's slowly crossing his legs to sit down beside him, feeling slightly cautious when Lance makes himself as comfortable as he can.

“Prepare to be amazed.”

Then, the scales on Lance's tail begins to disappear, shiny blue exterior becoming darker and smaller until there's nothing but smooth tan skin of legs stretched in front of him, and Hunk is trying not to gape too much as he watches the way his tail splits into two until his feet finally appears.

Lance wiggles his toes. “The last time I did this was, well,” he peers at Hunk, shooting both eyebrows up. “Saving your butt from drowning.”

Hunk scoffs. “You sound as if you’d rather let me drown.”

A snort. “Nah, I'd just make you as my dinner.”

“That's so _rude_.”

It's when Lance wants to wobbly stand up that Hunk realises he's as naked as a newborn baby, and he feels slightly embarrassed that he's starting to tug off his shirt.

Lance looks at him in confusion, his arms stretched out to prevent himself from falling. “What are you doing?”

“You're not wearing anything.”

“So?”

“ _So_ ,” Hunk passes his shirt towards him, to which Lance hesitantly takes. “anyone would have a heart attack if they see you buttnaked on the beach. This place isn't a nude beach you know, you'd get kicked out if you walk around like this.”

“You humans are so modest,” Lance comments offhandedly as he wears the slightly wet shirt of Hunk's. It's big enough that it reaches mid-thigh. “What’s there to be shy about?”

Hunk coughs, feeling a blush spreading across his cheeks when he remembers all the talk the older kids would howl about. It's an accident, to hear about the gross stuff the older kids would exchange between themselves, and Hunk wants to hit himself for remembering it again.

“Pretty much everything.” Hunk responds weakly.

Lance laughs. “ _So_ weak willed.”

Hunk puffs out his chest. “Oh yeah? Since you think you're so tough, how about a race across the beach, with your _feet_ this time. And whoever gets near my house first, _wins_.”

The only response he gets is a toothy grin before Lance is stumbling out of the cave, still getting used to the idea of _running_ instead of _swimming._

“Hey!” Hunk exclaims, scrambling after the boy. “That’s not fair! You cheated!”

“You choose, you lose!” The sound of cackles drifts towards Hunk, and his feet pounds harder against the sandy land as picks up his pace, a grin stretching across his face.

“It's _snooze._ ”

“ _Whatever_.”

 

* * *

 

“Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?”

Allura takes a sip of water Hunk has given her after the others have gone back, Lance already slamming the bedroom door close a while after that. “It wasn't my story to tell.”

“You were a part of it,” he points out, his fingers laced together tightly from where he has his arms on his knees, back slouched and brows furrowed from where they’re sitting on the sofa. Somehow, this position feels familiar, but with different roles reversed. “Technically, you have a say in it.”

“I say that it's not my place to tell,” she retaliates. “And why would I just tell the people I meet about something I'm not proud of?”

“It's about Lance-”

“To which I didn't know you knew him, and that I'm glad that he doesn't hate me after what I did to him.” She let's out a derisive bark of laughter, shaking her head slightly. “It's almost hard to believe he doesn't want to kill me for it.”

“You were forced to do it,” Hunk says gently. “After what you two told us, it's obvious that Lance already knew that.”

Allura sighs. “Galra is unmerciful, Hunk. Whatever they did to him was only one of the many things they've done without anyone else knowing. Because once you're part of them, you're bound to it for life. There would be no exceptions in anyone as everyone would be treated the same.” She gives him a wry smile at that. “If there's one thing Galra would stress on, it's equality. You're either a slave or you're dead.”

Her words left something cold trailing down his spine as she finishes the last of her drink, rising up to put the empty glass in the sink that he's left with her words mingling with Lance's story from before, where everything makes sense to why both Allura and Lance refuses to talk in detail when they could. It's vague, and they’re more comfortable in that sense, where whatever traumatic experience they went through needs to be buried deep down without the slightest bit of it being resurfaced.

Because, between their words, there's a hidden propaganda that shines dully through their eyes, something that all of them are able to see.

You either kill or be killed.

“The nurses kept buzzing me,” she calls out above the sound of running water, snapping him back to reality. “I'll have to go.”

Hunk stands up with her coat in his hands, and he meets her at the entrance of his kitchenette. Allura takes it from him.

“I'm sorry.”

She stares at him sharply as she slips into her coat; and her eyes still hold the same fire, the same kind of determination that he always respects her for. “You didn't know.”

“But I made you remember,” he says as he follows her to the door. “Both of you, when you didn't want to.”

She rests her hand on his arm in reassurance, her expression softening as she gives him a gentle smile. “You can't blame yourself for something you didn't do, Hunk. Remember that.”

And then, she twists the doorknob to let herself out, before the door closes behind her.

He let's out a deep breath, and runs his fingers through his hair.

And then, he makes his way towards his bedroom.

When he slips under the covers, Lance has his back facing towards him, and Hunk shuffles closer until his nose brushes against his slender nape.

“I'm sorry.” He breathes.

Lance doesn't speak, until he slowly turns around to meet Hunk’s gaze, blue eyes searching his face. “It's not your fault.”

A small smile forms on his lips. “That's what Allura said too.”

“Then, listen to her. If you can't, listen to _me_.” Lance leans forward to graze a kiss against the corner of his lips, and Hunk reaches forward to brush his fingers across the line of his jaw, sighing in content. “Whatever happened then, you had no part of it. I don't _want_ you to be a part of it, not when those monsters are concerned.”

Hunk trails his fingers down his neck, before burying them in his short hair as he bring themselves closer until their foreheads touch; breath intermingling where he's able to feel Lance’s hand clutching the front of his shirt as he looks into those eyes, searing with such emotion that he feels it spreading in his chest. “I miss you,” Hunk murmurs, and Lance let's out a small sound at the back of his throat that makes Hunk weak, swallowing thickly before he pressed his lips against the bridge of his nose. “I miss being with you.”

The hand on his shirt tightens, where Lance's knuckles is pressed against his stomach when he runs his fingers through his hair again. “ _Hunk_ ,” Lance croaks out. “Please, I- you have no idea how I thought I'd never _see_ you again, that I-”

He cuts himself off, and Hunk presses his lips against his, swallowing the shuddering breath as he likes to imagine he's sucking all the nightmares away, where every pain that has happened to Lance vanishes with this kiss, and nothing, _nothing_ , will stand in his way.

But men are not gods, and he only has the power to make things disappear for only a while, to _forget_ , even if it lasts momentarily.

It's enough, he thinks, as he deepens the kiss, when he pushes Lance until he's on his back, looming over him that he feels the hitched breath Lance makes when Hunk drags his hands up his hips, shirt riding up as he pushes his tongue past his lips. By god, it's _enough_ when Lance answers just as kind, nimble fingers dragging down the muscles of his back that Hunk is able to feel blunt nails digging into his flesh, sending little sparks of pleasure that travels down to the base of his spine, spreading across his navel.

It's enough.

He'll do what he can to _make_ it enough.

He breaks the kiss, gasping slightly as he mouths the line of Lance's jaw before he hovers over his ear.

“ _Laomereanes_.”

 

* * *

 

It's weeks later when Lance hears the front door being opened in the middle of the day again.

He rolls his eyes, and is about to call out when he notices that the footsteps that crosses the area sounds too quiet for them to be anyone he knows, too flitting for them to sound as if the owner is at ease; since he has taken the initiative to recognise everyone walking into Hunk's house in hopes that another almost-accident will not happen.

Pausing, he listens from where he's in the tub, _waiting_.

They're almost nonexistent that he _knows_ something's wrong.

And when the bathroom door suddenly burst open, Lance is able to immediately recognise the familiar black mask and attire the person wears, a slit of purple glass slashes across its mask as the only way for the person to see.

A sniper is being pointed towards him.

Lance grins.

_Fucking finally._

 

* * *

 

When Hunk is about to unlock the door to his apartment that night, he's surprised to find it cracked open.

And surprise quickly turns to alarm when he pushes the door widely, where the apartment is dark and eerily quiet, a contrast to when Lance would usually switch on the television to watch some shows he finds interesting.

But there's no sound, no flashing screens, lights not switched on despite the sun sinking hours ago, as if the place has been empty the whole time.

However, the bathroom light is on, and Hunk makes quick haste towards it, pushing the door open.

The smell of blood smacks him in the face that he almost takes a step back.

There's blood smeared against the floor, spilling into the bathtub that the water itself is red from its stain. Teared clothes are left on the cold floor, looking almost shredded from some force that destroyed them; but, he knows who did it, and knows he can't exactly blame him as he presses his lips grimly at the bits and pieces of drenched cloth splattered at that particular spot.

When he looks closer, he's able to see that those pieces of cloth are actually _flesh_ , some of them still attached to the unmistakable shape of _bones_ that are piled beside it.

Red and soggy with blood that it makes Hunk inhale sharply, almost gagging him in the process when the smell of copper fills in his nose and throat.

There's a trail of blood pointing towards the small dustbin, and when he takes a step forward to have a look, he reels back quickly before he has a chance to actually throw up.

Who knew the human organs could fill up the whole dustbin?

When he finally turns towards Lance, he has his head leaning against the tiled wall, eyes closed with his chin coated with blood, looking completely unperturbed that his chest is speckled with the same dark stains that makes a catastrophe of Hunk's bathroom.

Carefully, Hunk avoids the small heap of mess as he steps towards the bathtub, dragging the chair from the sink to sit near Lance.

Once he does, Hunk faces him, only to see Lance peering at him with one eye open. He pauses for a while, before he starts to rolls the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. It'll be a bitch to clean up if some of the blood got on it, _especially_ when he's wearing white. “Anyone I know?”

Lance hums, indifferent. “Trust me, you don't.”

Hunk stares at him. “It was really a burglar this time, then?”

His lips curls into a quiet snarl, and blue eyes flashes with anger as his hands clutches the edge of the tub, hauling himself up into a sitting position. “‘Burglar’ doesn't do justice to what that asshole is,” he wipes the blood off his chin with a quick swipe before he starts to scrub his hands together furiously, where there’s still blood under his nails from where they're sharpened by his agitation. “I had to get rid of him.”

Another distinguished inhale, and Hunk has his fingers wrapped around his wrists that causes Lance to stop, refusing to look at him in the eye as he only glares at their linked hands. “Lance,” Hunk begins quietly, tentatively, because he doesn't want to believe his suspicions, doesn't want to listen to his screaming heart. “Was it one of them?”

Lance gazes at him through his lashes, and the way the fluorescent lights shines onto him allows Hunk to see his sharp nose and hollowed cheeks, his chin still faintly red from the blood that's beginning to crust there while his lips are lushed from his meal.

Hunk knows, as his eyes fleets over where soft scales speckles against his neck and collarbones, that Lance is what he has told him years ago.

The only term that Hunk is able to compare then is _siren_

And, Lance has the unfortunate luck to know at how cruel and ruthless the human race can be once they see things their grubby hands hasn't have the chance to taint with.

Then, Lance gives him a sharp edge of his smirk. “I'd recognise anything Galra from a mile away the moment they so much rear their ugly heads.”

Hunk stands up. “We have to leave,” he begins, making his way towards the bedroom before he kneels beside his bed, pulling out the duffle bag underneath it. “They've found you here, we have to find a safer place for you to go to, _now._ ”

There's a splash before a muted _thump_ of body against the surface of a chair can be heard. “You have to leave with me.”

Nervous laughter escapes before Hunk has a chance to reel it in, shoving whatever clothes he has in his cupboard into the bag. “Oh, _no_ , we have to get _you_ out of here first, I can look for you later.”

“They'll kill you the moment you get in the way, Hunk,” Lance states flatly, stepping inside the bedroom naked; but at least, his face is clean when Hunk tosses him some clothes. “It's best you come with me.”

“And leave my friends with the possibility of _them_ getting killed?” Hunk replies sharply, glancing at Lance as he slips on the hoodie. “No, I _have_ to warn them first. Or _all_ of us will _die_ and I can't-”

Suddenly, the front door burst open, and there's the sound of boots trampling towards their way that Hunk immediately digs under his mattress for the shotgun he keeps, loading it with quick click before aiming the nozzle towards the closed bedroom door, both of them waiting quietly in anticipation as his house is being searched.

It becomes eerily quiet for a moment, and Hunk feels sweat dripping down his back as the sound of boots disappears entirely that he can hear his own heart thumping against his chest, blood rushing to his ears at the stillness of the air.

Lance merely takes his own gun from the side table and mimics Hunk's position, face stone cold as he clicks the gun in place.

And then, the door explodes.

Both of them immediately shoot fire, but the bullets bounces relentlessly off the armours of the intruders as they barge in with the same dark mask and purple slit.

Hunk grabs one of them nearest towards him slams his skull against the frame of the bed, hearing the cracking bone before he tackles another into punch.

They keep coming in until both of them have been surrounded -almost equivalent to a colony of ants making their way towards a dead animal- but Hunk tries to keep fighting, attacking what he's got as he sees Lance doing the same thing at the corner of his eye, quiet growls can be heard as Lance finishes the last of his bullets before he uses his own fists and strength.

“They won't stop,” Hunk hisses when they're pressed back-to-back. “Anyone ideas of how to get rid of them all at once?”

“I could _make_ them kill themselves,” Lance grunts, grabbing a firearm from one of the Galra before shooting at his neck, the only area where the hard shells of armour doesn't protect them despite their covered skin. “Watch them go suicidal.”

Hunk copies his tactic and begins shooting at them. “No!” he shouts above the noise, half focusing on taking everyone down.  “It’s too-”

“ _Get down!_ ”

Hunk feels Lance pushing him towards the other side of them room, and suddenly another grenade went off that makes everyone crash to the wall, breaths robbed out of them that Hunk is glad that they’re quick enough to use one of the Galra as their human shield, where the hit doesn't hurt them as much as it does to the soldiers.

He pushes the sagging weight of the unconscious Galra off him, blinking rapidly to get rid of stars in his eyes as the smoke begins to settle around him; the copper taste fills his mouth when he runs his tongue at the back of his teeth, surprised that the ceiling doesn't come falling on them.

“Don't move.”

Hunk stiffens when there's a pistol aiming under his chin, and he lifts his eyes up to where the owner is perched in front of him.

The man is huge in terms of muscle, having broader shoulders than Shiro has while standing taller than the man. He has a beard that attaches itself to his sideburns, dark hair slicked back while a mechanical eye occupied his right eye socket, his lips twisted into a sneer that Hunk sees the way his canines are sharper than most people would have, making him look animal-like.

“Well, well,” the man faces Lance as one of the Galra soldiers yanks his arms back while another points his firearm towards his chest, and Lance glares at the man who still has his weapon aimed at Hunk. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Wish I could say the same thing to you, Sendak, but then I'd be lying.” Lance replies with a crude version of a grin, jutting out his chin pompously, clearly trying to aggravate him.

Sendak merely clocks the pistol in place, causing Hunk to stiffen while Lance darts his eyes towards it. “I’m surprised our last encounter didn't permanently cripple you, or damaged you at some point,” Sendak says smoothly, eyes narrowing. “In fact, I'm tempted to do it again.”

Lance snorts loudly, tugging on his wrists. “Bluffing was always your forte, isn't it? Come on,” he tilts his head to the side, the same taunting expression on his face. “You've always had this problem with me, why don't you just shoot me and get on with it?”

A second passed without anyone moving, and he sighs, mock disappointment obvious. “I thought you were better than this, Sendak. Guess I was wrong. You can't even shoot me without getting scared of disobeying your precious _Zarkon_ -”

It's then Sendak swiftly lowers his arm and presses the trigger, and Hunk let's out a scream when he feels the bullet penetrating through his left thigh, buried deep inside his flesh that he covers the wound with his hand. But blood starts to seep through his fingers even if he tries to frantically stop it from flowing excessively, and his leg feels as if it's on fire, where he grits his teeth to overcome the pain. 

Sendak clicks his tongue in some degree of genuine pity and raises the pistol so that it's directly perpendicular to Hunk's forehead, completely disregarding Lance's choked gasp that it takes another Galra to hold him back from lashing out towards him. “You shouldn't have done that when I have Doctor Garrett right here, ready to die the moment you so much open that whore little mouth of yours. It's a shame, really, when he'll be an excellent addition to the Galra Empire.”

He looks down when Hunk whips his head up in surprise, smirking maliciously. “You're a celebrity, Doctor, everyone knows about your little malfunction in space, and while some people would be disgusted at such mistake, Director Zarkon knows your capability and is _very_ interested in you joining us.”

Lance snarls. “ _Over my dead body._ ”

“Oh, we'll go through that later,” Sendak nods towards the two guards, and they begin hauling Lance out of the bedroom that causes him to let out shouts of protests, trying to disarm himself from their grips. “Take him for a little nap, we wouldn't want the neighbours knocking on the door tonight.”

“ _Hunk!”_ Lance screams, jerking away from the needle.

Hunk doesn't have the chance to call out when something rams him in the head.

The last thing he sees is Sendak's boots before black envelops him completely.

 

* * *

 

“What happened to _you?”_

Hunk ignores the weight of his gaze entirely as he lowers himself down on the rock, laying on the smooth surface. “It's nothing.”

“Yeah, sure, because you're suddenly turning purple,” wet fingers brushes against the bruise on his cheek, causing the sixteen-year-old to flinch at the contact. “It's swelling.” Then, Lance hovers over his head, brows furrowed with worry as droplets of water falls from the tip of his nose, just missing Hunk’s face as they drop into his hair. “Did you get into a fight?”

Hunk waves away his concern, not meeting his gaze as he focuses on the ceiling behind Lance. “It's nothing, and it doesn't hurt so much.”

“Stop lying to me.”

He pauses, and a cold hand takes hold of his chin before gently guiding him to face Lance, where he forces himself to drag his gaze from the rocky sky before meeting those bright eyes that are the waves themselves; where they are as calm as the day when there are no clouds in the sky, the sun shines brightly above their heads, a small brush of wind against his skin.

He has yet to see them when Lance is angry.

But, he secretly imagines that they'll be just as stunning.

Hunk gives a smile that feels more of a grimace. “The ball hit me in the face?”

Those fingers let's go of his chin. “Try again.”

“I fell?”

Lance raises both eyebrows, flicking sea water towards him with his tail that Hunk splutters out a chuckle, pushing himself up so that he's sitting beside him. “Stop dodging the question,” Lance snorts. “That's _my_ thing.”

“Yeah, you're right about that.” Hunk laughs, covering his face with his hands when Lance does it again. “But we don't wanna worry about that, we're wasting daylight,” he stands up. “Come on.”

Lance holds him in place by wrapping his fingers around his ankle. “Let's try something else.”

Hunk blinks, but lowers himself down when Lance squeezes slightly. “What is it?”

“Wrap your arms around me."

He arches an eyebrow. “You're not going to pull me under, are you?”

Lance rolls his eyes. “If I wanted to drown you, I'd just pull you in the water, Hunk. No, come on,” he raises his arms slightly, smirking. “Do it.”

Hunk stares at him suspiciously, but nonetheless does as he's told as he slowly winds his arms around his waist, where the smell of sea from Lance becomes stronger when he gently let's his face rest against his shoulder. Slender arms secures his hold onto him, and Hunk inhales deeply to calm the flutter in his chest when he feels soft petal lips brushing against his ear.

“Hold on.” Lance whispers.

And then, they're plunging into the sea.

Hunk shuts his eyes closed as he feels Lance brings him deeper into the dark mass of water, when suddenly, the filtered sun rays shines onto his shut lids, glowing a bright red that he's tempted to open them.

But, he only tightens his hold onto Lance.

He hums in response, and it sounds more amplified rather than muffled.

Hunk feels them slowing down into a stop, his hold on Lance being the only anchor he has as they float almost aimlessly in this massive space of sea, staying put as they are that he feels the way small bubbles comes out of his nose, the tips of his hair brushing against his cheeks.

He's afraid, he realises, of what lays ahead around him.

Of what Lance is trying to show him.

_“Hunk.”_

He opens his eyes out of sheer surprise and impulse, and the first thing he sees is Lance smiling in front of him.

There's sunlight streaming above them, shining with such beauty that he admires the way it dances against their skin and is caught in the brown strands of Lance's hair, as if fire is embedded in them from the way they light up. His eyes seems to twinkle when Hunk manages to blink through the water, his mouth dropping into a quiet ‘o’ from where he merely stares at him with wonder, and that prompts laughter from Lance that Hunk _feels_ it.

The way it thrums around the space between them, whispering and caressing; and Hunk is surprised at how different it sounds from all the boisterous cackles Lance would sprout whenever they're on one of their humorous adventures. Sweet and melodic, tinkling to the point of it almost being shrill, almost similar to the sound of shells colliding with each other whenever the occasional breeze brushes against them. It leaves Hunk staring, because that's what he'll always do whenever it happens.

The water, he realises, may play a part in the change, as if it's the catalyst of it happening.

All of a sudden, Lance leans forward, and Hunk gasps as pair of lips is firmly pressed against his.

There's nothing soft about this, and as far as Hunk is concerned, Lance isn't doing anything much than doing just _that_ ; just pressing their mouths together that it could have been considered as a poor excuse of a kiss when Hunk himself isn't doing anything much other than staring widely at those long lashes flutter from the current of the waves, completely and utterly locked in place that he's subtly aware of the way Lance still has arms around him, securely letting him stay in his embrace.

It takes all his willpower to raise one hand and tentatively touch his shoulder, shyly responding to the kiss that Hunk feels like he's going to burst from the way his heart screams with delight.

Lance laughs again, and the sound makes Hunk laugh too that he tightens his grip onto him, the tickling touch of those floating seaweeds brushes against his feet.

It's then he realises he's sinking.

And yet, he's still _breathing_.

Hunk tears his eyes open, where Lance has leaned back in satisfaction that makes him blush; and that prompts another chuckle of music that Hunk suddenly feels the rush of something heavy leaving his body, where everything feels exceptionally light and at ease.

Lance tilts his head to the side.

_“How do you like it?"_

Hunk opens his mouth to reply, blinking rapidly before shutting it close altogether, lost of words from whatever it is that's happened in a whirl of time as the question can be implied as the kiss. Completely befuddled at this point, he settles for a shrug instead.

Lance hums, and Hunk finds out that he loves the way the octave in his voice drops and yet tinkles at the same time; it's absolutely fascinating that he can't help but only _stare_. _“You can talk, you know,”_ Lance then backs up until they're at arm's length, but he still has his hands in his, and Hunk takes that advantage to grip them to prevent himself from floating away. _“That's why I did that.”_

Something akin to disappointment knocked against his sternum at the thought that Lance doesn't know the significance of doing what he did, that the meaning of kissing is completely lost to him other than transferring some communication abilities underwater. But, Hunk furiously shakes it away before Lance takes notice at the sudden shift of his behaviour, where he'll probably spoil the mood with it.

Instead, he raises his eyebrows with exaggeration.

Rolling his eyes, Lance yanks Hunk towards him, causing a small yelp to escape his lips when their chests collides, and he feels flustered again the moment Lance grips his chin with his fingers, forcing Hunk to look at him in the eye with acute clarity that it startles him the slightest bit.

Those blues look like they're _glowing_.

 _“Come on,”_ Lance murmurs, and the same soft tone seems to invade his senses that Hunk relaxes his body automatically, his eyes having a mind of their own when they're pulled towards his lips again. _“Say my name.”_

Hunk slowly looks up; and Lance waits for him, demanding and patient at the same time that he wants to laugh at the odd combination.

And so, he grins.

_“Laomereanes.”_

 

* * *

 

For a moment, he thinks he's drowning again.

In choking self-hatred, in _guilt-_

Pulling him _under_ -

And _under_ -

Water occupying his broken space suit, alarms blaring and the pressure unbearable.

For a moment, he thinks he's crashed down again.

He panics.

_“Hunk!”_

There's a hand on his shoulder, but he shoves it away-

Another obstacle pulling him _down-_

_“Hunk- Oh my g-”_

Three of his crew died in _space-_

He _hates_ it.

He hates _space._

_“Shit- Keith, the needle-”_

_“You can't just_ stab _him with a fucking_ needle, _Allura-”_

“Now, _Keith-”_

All three of them died.

Because of _him-_

_He murdered them-_

_He_ should die as well-

He doesn't _belong_ here.

 _Safe_ , walking and talking, eating and-

 _“_ Breathe _, Hunk!”_

No.

_“Shiro, hold him.”_

Might as well _die_ with them-

Floating aimlessly-

In.

Mother.

Fucking.

_Space._

_“Hunk, please- Keith, help Shiro,_ now- _Hunk, if you hear me, please-”_

Should have stayed at _home_ , with _Ma_ -

Should have stayed with-

With-

_“Lance.”_

Something pricks his arm-

And he blacks out again.

 

* * *

 

It's, as he expected, an exhausting experience to wake up from the dead.

Completely and utterly.

Sometimes, he wishes it just _stays_ that way.

It's stupid, of course; he doesn't want to kill himself.

“What happened?”

But, there are just _moments_ , you know?

Fragile moments, dismembering thoughts.

Shiro's safe house looks the same as Hunk remembers the last time he's here; cobwebs threaded at the corner of the white walls, the frames of the only two bunk beds pushed to the wall with a small bedside table in the middle of them. There's the smell of chicken soup coming from the pantry, the sound of rushing water can be heard from behind the closed bathroom door on his left, where Allura cleans herself up after checking up on him the moment he so much wakes up.

He's grateful that all of them waited for a while to ask him anything, where the first person he sees is Shiro sitting vigil by his side as he stares at his linked fingers with a blank expression on his face, completely unaware that Hunk has woken up. Hunk tries to catch his attention by calling out, but snaps his jaw shut when he feels the pounding headache behind his eyelids, and a small groan is all it takes when Shiro snaps his head up in surprise.

He let's out a relieved sigh then, muttering out a greeting before he calls for Allura at the small round dining table in the middle of the clearing, dragging her attention towards them from where she's been talking to Keith, Pidge, and Coran.

Time seems to stretch out after that, where she checks for any inconvenience that might needed to be looked at, softly asking Hunk some questions about the places on his body that he might find painful.

They passed him a bowl of canned chicken soup then, where it takes him a slower time to eat, trying to swallow through his scratchy and raw throat while at the same time stomaching the contents down; it's the only reason that he doesn't want his friends to worry as he swallows the slightly plain food while hiding a pained expression from his face.

Everything feels sore, but he isn't going to tell them that.

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair from where he has his back by the wall as he stretches his legs on one of the bunk beds, bandage wrapped around his injured thigh as Shiro and Keith waits patiently for him to answer by sitting beside each other. “They took Lance.”

Keith purses his lips. “Galra?”

“Yeah,” Hunk pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily again. “They trashed my house and took Lance away, and I, of course,” he snorts at this, dropping his hand that it lands on the bed with an inaudible slap. “couldn't even save him.”

Shiro frowns. “Hunk-”

“Sendak had me at gunpoint, I couldn't just lunge at him without risking the fact that Lance could be shot too,” Hunk continues as if he hasn't heard him. “I don't know why they want Lance so badly, but they've taken him from me again without so much of breaking a sweat.”

He doesn't care how possessive he sounds in front of them, not when he feels the same guilt he has been carrying for the past half year since he woke up from his coma.

Murmurs from Pidge and Coran can be heard once the noisy pipes and running water is twisted closed as the knob squeaks loudly from the bathroom, and Hunk hears the faint buzz of the quiet room fills in between them.

He's angry.

And guilty.

Oh, so fucking _guilty_.

“What did they do to him?” Keith asks. “We’ve gotten the simple picture of the whole thing, but what is it do they do that they're the most dangerous hidden organization that no one has ever heard off?”

Hunk scowls slightly, remembering every single thing that Lance told him during one of those nights when they've huddled together in his bed, their hands touching and tracing everything about each other while Lance quietly explains every single detail he's gone through. Hunk remembers being more horrified and disgusted as time passes, and in the end, pulls Lance into a hug as he murmurs soothing words for the both of them to hear, reassuring and promising that he would never let that happen to him again.

Look at what good it did though.

“Allura probably told you the whole thing already,” he says, defences raising as he darts his gaze between his two friends. “Why ask me if you know?”

“They only know what Lance and I told all of you at your apartment,” he doesn't notice when Allura walks out of the bathroom, brushing through her hair as she calmly makes her way towards them, her kaleidoscope eyes unwaveringly holds his own that Hunk feels the way they pound through his walls easily. “Nothing else. Because I was hoping that Lance would do it once he's ready enough, but we have to know what's really happening _now_ if we're going to take them down.”

“There are hundreds of them,” he reminds her pointedly. “And only six of us. How are we supposed to take _all_ of them down with only just a few people?”

“Something might help,” Coran pipes up as he and Pidge joins them. “Despite Garrison being a space related organisation to the public, there's another organisation that's military-based under all that fancy space rockets and space suits, and it's called Altea. Hundreds of agents are trained to take down any official business that the world doesn't need to know; for the safety of the people, of course, and that the world won't burst into a fireworks of chaos.”

“Not to mention that my family had been programming and making weapons for Altea for years,” Pidge adds, quirking a half smile when Hunk stares at her. “Yes, the Holts still have their own company to run as we provide the latest technology for the people, but we’re mostly at Altea improvising some safety precautions that includes some light and yet durable vests that won't let any type of bullet pierce through while at the same time, making sure the new guns won't explode in their hands. There's lots more things that's been done too.”

“Altea used to belong to my father,” Allura continues swiftly. “And it just so happens that Galra is an old enemy of ours that we've been meaning to catch them for a long time, but it didn't work out as we hope it would be.” She gestures to herself and Coran, where both of them have the same look of exhaustion that appears as if it's never going to disappear. “As you can see.”

Hunk blinks at them. “How come you guys never told me this?”

Shiro winces in guilt. “We've been meaning to, but everything was in a rush before Kerberos that we didn't have the time to actually sit down and talk about it, and we didn't want to trouble you more after you woke up.”

“Some FYI would be nice though,” Hunk says gruffly, and he lifts his hand when Shiro wants to protest. “I know, you did it for my own good where you didn't want me to collapse from self destructive mental behaviours. I get it. But right now, I'm fine, and yes, some help from Altea would be very convenient in getting Lance back through a pack of monsters by kicking their asses into a black hole.”

“One thing was clear when Coran and I worked there,” Allura sits at the foot of his bed. “is that they have a morbid sense of fascination in things that doesn't belong to them.”

Everybody looks as if they've immediately caught on what she implies when there's silence hanging above their heads, and Hunk feels disgust curdling inside himself at the thought of the Galra doing such things.

“But, there are only five people who knew about Lance,” she adds. “Coran and I happened to be one of them.”

“I’m guessing this Zarkon and Sendak are the other two?” Keith asks.

“Yes.”

“Who's the other one?”

“A man called Thace. I’m not exactly sure where he stands though,” she says with a small frown. “There are actually times when I think he hates everything that's happening around him as much as we do, but then, I'm not sure.” She purses her lips. “But we can't jump into conclusions just because someone's not entirely sure of what they're supposed to do.”

“Well then,” he continues in a matter-of-fact. “What are we waiting for?”

“Uh, Hunk's rifle sniper,” Pidge answers as she takes quick steps towards the sofa at the other end of the room, and Hunk is surprised that he doesn't notice the weapon that's perched at the side of it. “I needed to make some modifications when you were out, Hunk. I mean, I know you can always do it on your own, but I was curious on what else it could add.”

Hunk arches an eyebrow at her innocent look. “Just couldn't help yourself to my new toy, huh?”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “I'll let you touch my stuff if you let me touch yours.”

“Didn't stop you before,” he gives a crooked smile. “Show me Altea's workshop, let me be part of it, and you got yourself a deal.”

“No problem.”

“Good,” Shiro interferes their friendly squabble before turning towards the two close friends. “Coran, is there any chance that you and Allura remember where they hid Lance?”

Both of them share a glance, and it's obvious they aren't exactly happy that they actually _do_ remember. “Unfortunately,” the older man answers dryly. “Not much to forget when you're being prisoner yourself in that hellhole for thirteen years. We’ll have to fly there, since it's at the other side of the continent.”

“An Altean private jet would be enough for all of us.” Then, her eyes flickers towards Hunk's bandaged thigh, worry visible. “Are you sure you’ll be alright? The wound isn't healed properly, and you might feel some pain despite the fact that we managed to get the bullet out and stitched you up.”

He runs a thumb against the soft material  before meeting her eyes. “I need to be there.”

She looks as if she’s considering to not let him go, but in the end nods her head slowly. “Of course.”

“Once Hunk gets some more rest, we'll leave tonight,” Shiro stands up then. “We get things that needed to be done, and then we'll drive to Garrison for the jet.”

“Wait,” he pauses from his advance towards the pantry when Hunk calls out, and turns around with a questioning gaze. “Is Altea literally _under_ Garrison itself?”

It's Keith who offers him a small, amused smile. “Yep.”

Hunk stares at him in disbelief. “You're kidding me. Are you saying after all this time I've been working for Garrison I didn't know there’s some hidden _hangar_ under me?”

“Seems about it.” Pidge quips, not bothering to hide her toothy grin.

He shakes his head in mock defeat, dragging himself towards the edge of the bed to plant his bare feet on the chilly floor. “Traitors. _All_ of you. Hiding something as cool as that from me.”

“Aw, come on, Hunk,” she cackles as he waves away Keith and Coran’s help when they’re swiftly by his sides. “You're just mad that I knew all the cool stuff first.”

He tries not to wince as he stands up slowly, feeling the way his thigh throbs with a burning pain. “Yeah,” he grunts out, and the merry look her face drops into worry when he straightens himself up. “How dare you?”

“Hunk-” Allura begins, but stops when he manages to stand perfectly.

He rolls his shoulders, trying to get rid of the stiffness that manages to latch onto him while he's been out. “Alright.”

“Let's kick some Galra ass.”

 

* * *

 

The room is dim the moment Lance tears his eyes open.

He's chained to the wall, thick metallic cuffs clamped around his wrists from where he finds himself slumped on the ground. Lifting his head is an effort that he swears there is lead occupying the insides of his brain, pulling him down as he feels the grogginess and exhaustion that makes his senses blurred around the edges; and it takes him a few long moments for his eyesight to come back fully while he tries to blink them all away.

 _Drugged_ , he muses darkly as he lifts his hand, clenching and unclenching his fingers to get back some strength while he sweeps through the whole room, and feels some sort of thin amusement at how he recognises it when he sees the large container full of water at the other end of the mostly empty room.

Home sweet home.

Looking down to the chains, he scowls at the fact that the lack of them prevents him from standing up, effectively tying him down that he's forced to sit there and wait for someone to unchain him so that he can lash out and free himself.

Despite his strength being stronger than a normal human being, tugging these things would be little use, since he has experience in having raw and bloody skin in the past to know that the resistance these things posses is a lot more stronger than he is.

“You're finally awake.”

He stiffens, lifting his head up to the sound of boots coming towards him as they thud against the cemented floor. He sees Sendak with four of his lackeys holding onto their firearms that the commander is the only one not wearing any of their signature purple slitted helmets, his mechanical eye whirling as it adjusts to the little light in the room and focuses onto Lance.

“How nice of you to join us,” Sendak continues, standing just in front of him that Lance is able to smell the sweat and ash that sticks on him. “I was hoping I'd wake you up myself, given the fact that you had enough rest as it is after your little _attitude_ a few hours ago.”

Lance merely leans back on the wall. “I see you got a new eye, Sendak,” he says instead, jutting his chin out towards it as indication. “Fancy little thing, makes you an actual cyborg now. Maybe, you can terrorise the city with that new look instead of hiding in this shithole like some _worm_.”

Sendak narrows his human eye, and Lance eyes the four firearms that's been aimed towards him. “I suppose you're proud to be the cause of that.”

Lance grins. “Your eye is here somewhere, probably rolled under the huge fish tank after I did the honours of scraping it out.”

“Ah, so you recognised that,” Sendak turns around to give it a glance. “Good. I expect you to be in your best behaviour once Director Zarkon comes, he'll want to see you for himself now that you've come back to us.”

“You mean when you _dragged_ me here and chained me to a wall.”

“Come now, you wouldn't want to end up like your old friend in the other tank, do you?”

Lance grits his teeth when Sendak smiles knowingly. “Of course you don't,” he continues with the same hum in his voice. “But, you may be some use of us longer than ES 12 did. There's no use worrying about it for now since we're still getting some last minute touches done specially for you. You should feel lucky, since none of your other species survived what advanced technology we have now than they were years ago.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Lance spits, tugging on the chains as he feels fury bubbling in his veins at the memory of what happened then, how he’s helpless to stop from any of it happening.

“Come now, Sendak, is that a way to greet an old friend?”

Surprise floods on said man's expression before he hides it swiftly behind a blank wall, and then he faces towards the door. “Director Zarkon.”

 

* * *

 

There’s a girl.

Maybe she's older than Lance is, maybe she's the same age; but what he realises is that they have something in common the moment he meets her multicolored eyes from where he's strapped to a cot.

She's terrified.

Utterly, and thoroughly.

He has no strength to scream out for help, the drug they put inside him weighs heavily inside him that the thought of tugging onto his restraints troubles him to the end; cold and heavy titanium clamps themselves around his wrists and ankles that the only thing he’s able to do is blink at her slowly.

She looks away, gripping onto her fingers as she stands obediently beside a man who has orange hair, grim and quiet as he only stares ahead while they wait for orders, refusing to look at Lance as if a glance itself would be prohibited.

Lance doesn't remember how he gets himself here. He doesn't remember _how_ he's got himself knocked out cold in the first place.

But what he knows is that, these two people are much of a prisoner here as he is.

There's the sound of mechanical doors sliding open, and Lance whips his head to the side to look at the intruders, and almost shrinks back at the way they hold themselves.

There are three of them. Two of which don a full body armour with snipers each strapped on their backs, their faces holds no sign of emotion as they walk side by side. One is bigger than the other, who has broader shoulders and stands taller as he sets his square jaw firmly while the other is leaner in a sort of way, his oval shaped face is as empty as any other person that enters the room.

That carefully concealed expression he wears sets something crawling under his skin, where Lance isn't sure whether that's worse than the raw glee that lights up in the bigger one's eyes.

Their leader doesn't have the same wariness his two companions have, in which he doesn't wear any armour to protect himself against any possibility of inconvenience that might happen, as if the sheer confidence in himself and his guards are enough to shield him from what dangers that might come upon him. He wears only a maroon suit, as if he has just gotten back from a dinner party that requires his absolute presence in the face of many people.

The corner of his eyes litters with small wrinkles of age, streaks of white hair runs across the sides of his head while a single silver band of onyx stone wraps itself around his ring finger; and the stone doesn't seem to reflect any light whenever they shine onto it, swallowing every type of brightness that manages to touch its surface.

“Doctor Coran,” their leader addresses the man with orange hair, sounding eerily calm in the tensed atmosphere of the cold room. “What can you tell us about ES 11?”

A tablet appears in the doctor's hand as he begins to swipe through the reports. “He is as what you expect them to be, Director Zarkon, ” he drones out, and then he swipes them out of the tab and onto the large screen that’s been pulled down from the ceiling for all of them to see. “Experiment Siren 11, or ES 11, is everything his species should be; he has excellent health, a strong body for a young one. But,” he glances at the three of them, cautious of saying the next of his words. “his immortality has yet to start.”

“Are you saying that he's too _young?_ ” the big one growls, and that causes the girl to straighten up with barely contained anger flashing in her eyes.

Coran meets his look evenly. “Yes. It's a bit difficult to explain this, but it seems as if some part of his cells that shows his ability to live for as long as he likes hasn't grown out fully, and you can already see it here.”

He reaches out and firmly grasps Lance’s jaw to tilt his head back, and Lance bares his teeth into a snarl.

None of them takes heed of his threat. “The scales on his neck are still small and almost nonexistent. If we put him into the water, we'll be able to see that his gills won't be as big as the other subjects we've seen before this, this shows his maturity hasn’t grown fully yet and that it might be useless for us to do anything with him at the moment.”

Zarkon leans back, humming in consideration as he drags his eyes to meet Lance's gaze, where the boy wrenches his chin out of the doctor's hand to glare at Zarkon with all his hatred. “They age the same pace as we do before they mature, do they not, doctor?”

“Yes.”

“And how long does it take it for him to reach his mature age?”

Coran pauses. “A year, at most. He's considered at the age of seventeen at the moment, eighteen is the age sirens would be considered as adults and that they would stop aging then; unless, of course, they wait until they're older than that. The other doctors say that he should be an adult now, when he's seventeen, but it doesn't seem to be that way with him.”

“A late bloomer,” Sendak murmurs. Then, he faces Zarkon. “We’ll have to wait for a year to run some tests on him. Would you like me to look for more for the time being? We won't waste any time if that's the case.”

Zarkon looks away from Lance, and instead focuses his attention onto the other guard. “What are your opinions in this, Thace? Do you see any faults in this plan that needs to be altered?”

Thace only meets Zarkon's look steadily. “I follow what you think is right, sir.”

“Another one would be good, Sendak,” Zarkon says flippantly, as if swatting away a fly, before turning on his heel to make his way out with the other two following him. “In the meantime, keep this one to the side, doctor, I'll see to it a year from now.”

Something ugly flashes in Coran's eyes when he answers behind their backs, nostrils flaring with something akin to anger as doors slides open again. “Of course.”

Lance feels his stomach drop at the declaration.

Once when it's the three of them in the room again that the doctor's shoulders slumps with exhaustion, and he puts away the tablet on the table before wiping the side of his face with a hand. And then, he has a needle filled with clear fluid that makes Lance eyes it warily, feeling his skin crawl with fear when Coran stands beside the cot. Finally, after a while of not doing so, he looks at Lance.

He's surprised to find the guilt that weighs in his eyes.

“I'm sorry, my boy,” Coran whispers at the corner of his mouth, flicking the excess bubbles from the syringe. “I wish I could help you out of this, prevent you from going through the things the others before you did. But, there's so much I could do.”

Lance blinks in confusion. “What-?”

“You just have to remember this once we do anything to you,” it’s the girl who speaks softly then. She and Coran share a quick glance.

“Don't use your _voice_.”

And then, they're bury the needle in his bicep.

In less than a minute, he's down again.

-

He finds out that Coran and Allura isn't the only people who would be handling him.

There's another doctor named Haggar.

And she's much more heartless than they would allow themselves to be.

Lance is put into a big tank with transparent glass, allowing him to see everything that unfolds in front of him from where he presses his hands against the slimy and green tainted surface.

The water he's in is murky, nothing like the fresh and clear water of the sea that he's disgusted at how heavily it rests onto his skin, where they never bother to change it every month and just let him swim around in the cramped space they've provided for him that he doesn't have the freedom to do a full circle in it, frustrating him to no end. He has at least five or six inches of space before his head threatens to break the surface while his tail almost brushes the bottom of the tank.

Thin bones of eaten fishes lay at the surface, swept around whenever he so much moves his tail near them that most of the time, he has to curl into one spot to prevent it from happening, and that would usually cause his back to protest.

After months, they've found another one of him, and Lance stares with wide eyes as those soldiers bring in a transparent container that's the size of a coffin if anything else, barbed wire is used as its cover. His heart thuds at the sight of another one of _him_ , where she has gleaming turquoise tail and shining blonde hair, with striking eyes that are the same colour as Zarkon's ring.

And she's resisting against their forces.

Spitting out obscenities in their language that would have made him claps his hands over his ears long ago, she keeps banging her fist against the wires and the container around her, and he's surprised at how it's not already shattered at the force she applies on them that allows the sound to echo through the whole room. He stares, because it's been awhile since he has seen his own people.

He feels an ache in his chest when he does.

Haggar is waiting for the container to be put down on the low but wide cot in front of her, her eyes holds a malicious glint as she begins to slip in the gloves with deliberate slowness, soaking in the sight of the blonde haired in front of her with a small satisfied smile peeking at the corner of her lips. There's a table full of thick and long needles that's attached to their respective syringes, where a long black wire attaches itself to the other end, and it leads to a machine waiting at the side of the table.

There's a loud crack that makes her smile drop. “She's breaking the container,” she barks towards her helpers, German accent thick. “Bind her, and then I can get started.”

The helpers work swiftly as they are quick to pull the barbed wire off and chaining her as they have did to him before, but she still remains in the container as they tug on her arms to clamp the same silver bands around her wrists, and another thicker one that weighs at the end of her tail, just above her fin. They pull onto the chains until they're taut against her, wrapping the excess around the feet of the cot to prevent her from moving more as she struggled, eyes widen with horror.

Haggar seems satisfied with the situation as she holds one of the needles in her hand. “You'll have to hold still, love,” she purrs towards the blonde, who in return bares her sharp teeth as a response. “This will only sting a bit if you cooperate with me.”

“Let go of me!” She snarls, jerking onto her chains, water splashing everywhere as she struggles desperately in her bonds.

The helpers pushes her down to keep her still, but Haggar shakes her head. “Turn her around.”

They managed to expose the blonde’s back to the air, and Lance can feel his chest heaving rapidly when Haggar combs through those golden strands back to expose her nape, and if the situation isn't as terrible as it is, the gesture can be considered as tender and loving.

Without warning, she pushes the needle in.

The shrilling scream the siren makes rattles his eardrums, and he pushes himself to the other side of container as he watches at the horror that's being unfold in front of him, his hands pressed firmly against the transparent glass that he _swears_ it vibrates with the amplitude of it.

Haggar and the others doesn't seem to be bothered by it, as if years of practice has made them immune to sound that it takes a little more than that to phase them in any way.

“Another,” Haggar demands briskly as one of her lackeys passes her another needle, and she stabs the vertebrae in between the siren’s scapula, and another choked screech fills in the space of the room that merely prompts a twitch of a smile on Haggar’s face.

Lance shoots towards the glass and pounds onto it, feeling his rage consuming him completely that his teeth begins to sharpen while his nails grows longer, scratching the glass surface in fury that leaves trails of white lines under his wake.

Haggar notices his attempts and snarls. “Put him out! I don't want any disturbance when I'm doing my work.”

When she puts in another needle at the base of the siren's spine, both she and Lance let's out a combined scream that causes the men to stagger slightly, covering their ears with their hands.

_“Put him out!”_

Lance backs up, focusing all his strength to break through the barriers of the damned transparent container that he swears he'll _kill_ them all if they touch his kind ever again.

There will be no mercy left.

He's about to sprint, when there's a soft, sound of something being shot before he feels a prick buried in his arm. Grabbing blindly to his side, he pulls it out, and immediately, the world in front of him begins to turn upside down.

“ _No.”_ He breathes, feeling his eyelids getting heavier by the second as tries to fight through it, dragging himself towards the surface.

He gives a single gasp the moment his head breaks out of the water, his senses becoming duller that the last thing he sees is the purple slit of one of the soldiers glaring mockingly back at him, pained screeches muffled before he blacks out again.

- 

“-them?”

“It's not possible, ES 12 has already lost much energy to be burdened with such responsibility. Any additional strain would kill her immediately.”

There's a pause that seems to ring in his ears, and Lance tries to tear open his heavy eyelids, force himself to make a sound or to move his limbs.

But, as it seems, he can't even lift a finger.

“Perhaps, a new siren would make it possible?”

_No._

There's a quiet release of breath, and he recognises the voice as Coran. “Perhaps.”

“I need concrete confirmation, doctor.”

Lance feels panic rising in his chest, crowding his throat that he feels himself going physically sick as he tries to open his eyes, tries to move so that he's able to _stop them-_

“It's entirely plausible.”

_No._

“Very well.”

Only he can hear his own screams.

 

* * *

 

When Hunk sees the amount of space Altea consumes under Garrison, he tries not to grumble too much at how he's only seeing this _now_ rather than before.

But, while he admits that everything about the place is stunning -which it is, he's not going to deny it- he has Lance to think about.

And whether or not he'll be alright until they all come.

“The Galra wants _what?_ ”

Hunk tries not to wince as Matt stares wide eyed at him from where he's holding onto the bazooka in his arms. He’s afraid that the weapon would pull him down from its massive weight. “Immortality,” Hunk repeats as he tightens his bandage from where he sits one of the chairs. “Sirens have immortality, and they're using Experiment Siren as a way to take that type of life force from them for their own.”

Matt hauls the weapon onto the table. “I know Galra have always been making evil soldiers and screwing with us when they can, but I never actually thought they're _leeching_ lives out,” he plants his hands on the surface, expression grim. “And how long have they've been doing this? Months? Years?”

“Forty-two years to be exact,” Hunk says, and Matt curses under his breath as he pushes himself off the table to stalk across the room. “From what Lance told me, they've been doing this ever since Zarkon discovered sirens when he was only starting the organisation. In short, they've become friends, but he stabbed her in the back. Literally.”

“That's almost the same amount of time Altea found out about them, and Galra can be considered as ancient when they've been surviving for almost fifty years,” Matt shakes his head in disbelief, grabbing the two shotguns from the counter before setting them beside the bazooka. “How many experiments did they manage to make?”

“Twelve, including Lance.”

“That's a lot, considering that we thought that their species are myths and don't actually exists in our world. For all we know there's not much of them left, probably explained why we never see them at all.”

“Galra is desperate,” Hunk applies pressure onto his wound, satisfied that the pain killers are working when he doesn't feel any pain much, just a dull throb if anything else. “For some reason, they believe that having the original founder of the organisation will make Galra stand stronger, something about the soldiers looking up to their leader in the flesh rather than groveling to a ghost.”

Matt makes a face, grabbing more weapons from the counter full of them to lay them out across the table in front of Hunk; grenades, gas bombs, some knives, more guns, and even a taser. “He sounds like a fucking vampire,” he says flatly. “Toss him into the sun, roast him dry; that sewage they call a department needs it from the amount of rats that's crawling inside it.”

“I don't think it works that way.”

“Why don't we try for the heck of it?” Matt says sweetly, almost blinking innocently at Hunk that he grins. “It'll be fun, and maybe I'll get to try one of the moves you and Shiro taught me when we were floating in space.”

Then, the smile slowly drops. “Matt, I-”

“Nope, no,” Matt points a finger at him in warning. “I know what you're going to say, and all I can say is _no_ , because as much as I'd like to appreciate your apology, ten of them per hour is a little bit _too_ much.”

“Shiro warned you, huh?” Hunk says wryly.

“Yes, and I'm not going to hear you apologising to me everytime I see your face, Hunk. It happened in the past, and it’s a shitty memory to have for the rest of our lives, I know. But right now, I'd rather we focus on letting that vampire roast into crisps for being a complete asshole for the past century.”

“Wow.”

Hunk looks up to where the others stroll into Matt's workshop, and Shiro raises an eyebrow at them. “If it’s that easy, we'll be shutting Galra down in a second.”

“But, it's not,” Keith continues from beside him as they settle around the room. He crosses his arms from where he's beside Hunk. “Galra’s been keeping their systems tight for decades, prancing in like some hippy won't work.”

“You'd know what's a hippy like, wouldn't you, Keith?” Pidge smirks as she stands beside Matt, and Keith flips her the bird. “Anyway, we've got a plan where it doesn't include barging in the front door of the ‘Galra Empire’ and serve our asses on a silver platter.”

Hunk almost snorts at her mischievous look. “Hacking?”

“Hacking.” Pidge agrees with a single nod of her head, tapping a few things on her tab. “Ala Mission Impossible.”

It's Matt who snorts. “That's so degrading, we're obviously better than them.”

“True.” She hums, before dragging the blueprint of the Galra building out of her tab, where it floats in the middle of the room that Hunk is able to see every room and hallway it has, as well as every possible exits they'll be able to go through later.

She nods towards Shiro.

“Right,” he stands on Hunk's other side. “Here's the plan.”

 

* * *

 

Hunk never liked playing anything spy-related.

Slinking across floor, hiding in the shadows.

If he was going to take someone down, might as well barge through them where everything will be taken down with a single impact.

But, with tact, of course.

You can't race into a trap of shooting needles without knowing how to dodge.

However, if a distraction is what they need, a ambush is what they'll conjure.

He, Shiro, and Allura quietly make their way into the building while the other three cause a commotion outside with another handful of jets the Altea agents piloted, taking down the machine guns and tankers that are aimed towards their way.

Hunk makes use of his newly modified weapon by taking down the soldiers the moment they’re in his line of sight, his friends backing him up when some tries to hit him where he can't see.

One of the Galra soldiers manages to shout a warning into his com before Allura blasted his head with a handgun.

“He just called more of his friends,” Shiro grunts, slitting the last of the soldiers in the throat with his dagger before dropping the body. The three of them run down the hallway, footsteps thudding against the floor. “Get ready, Keith, they'll send jets to take you down.”

 _“Roger that,”_ Keith answers, and Hunk is able to hear the way Pidge swears loudly at the background. _“Don't worry about us, just find Lance and we'll get out of here.”_

“After we find Zarkon,” Allura allows herself to step to the side as Hunk starts shooting at the incoming Galra soldiers. “And Sendak.”

 _“About that,”_ Pidge drawls as she types rapidly. _“You don't have to find them, they're already waiting for you with Lance.”_

Hunk watches the way the bullet goes between the last soldier's armour and helmet. “Can't say I'm surprised, they've been trying to find Lance for over a year.”

 _“Yeah, well, we've established that this guy is a big deal from the start.”_ There's some strain in Keith's voice as he no doubt barely missed a missile that's being aimed towards his way. The loud bomb that comes after that justifies it. _“But, we have to hurry.”_

Hunk shares a small smirk with Shiro. “Aw, Keith. You're still miffed he managed to get under your skin?”

 _“No, just the fact that he wanted to pull it off.”_ Keith shoots back. Then, he swears under his breath. _“Pidge, hold on. We're going for a little ride.”_

 _“Be glad that I trust your driving.”_ Pidge manages to grit out.

_“I'm touched. Holler when you need us.”_

“Got it.” Shiro replies.

More soldiers come streaming in from around the corner, a wave of plague leaving destruction in their path with no consideration to anyone or anything around them.

They make a little game out of this.

“I'm already at 24,” Hunk voices out, shooting with accurate aim that the body hasn't even fall to the ground when he's already moving to the third soldier. “27.”

“29.” Shiro grins, grabbing the sniper before kicking the soldier in the jaw, where all of them hear the way his neck cracked back.

“34.” Swiftly, she grabs the extra knife Shiro keeps strapped around his thigh, and buries it into the neck of the remaining soldier.

Shiro raises an eyebrow at her when she flips the knife in her hand, before presenting the hilt back to him, blade blood coated and all. “You could've ask, you know?”

She shrugs. “I was in a hurry.” When he doesn't immediately take it, she rolls her eyes, wiping the blade against her pants, before sheathing it back into its casing herself. She props her hands onto her hips, arching her own eyebrow. “There. Satisfied?”

He shakes his head, an amused smile peeking at the corner of his lips as the three of them begin to move again. “Yeah, sure.”

The door they've been going for stands in their field of vision the moment they turn around the corner, and Hunk tightens his hold onto his weapon. “That's it,” he tells them. “They should be in there.”

From there, Hunk takes aim and fires at the pad, where it sparks before the mechanical doors slides open.

When they get in, however, there’s no one there.

_No._

“Pidge,” Shiro calls out lowly as Hunk begins to walk towards the huge transparent container at the other side of the room, Allura following behind him. “Status report.”

 _“They're supposed to be there,”_ she replies, voice tight. _“But seeing that they managed to slip past our fingers the moment we look away, they're not. Just,”_ there’s rapid typing, and the sound of bombs and crashes from her side is loud enough to be heard through their coms. _“wait a second, they may still be somewhere in this goddamn building.”_

There's a cot beside the empty tank, along with a smaller container that Hunk recognises it from what Lance tells him before, and Allura isn't one to easily forget as she looks at it with absolute disgust.

“They tried to mate him with another siren,” she says quietly, not taking her eyes off the cot. “Nyma was her name, but she wasn't strong enough to withstand another experiment after the first one, as they took a lot more from her than they did with the others. The only thing that surprised me then was how long she managed to survive throughout the whole thing; a year at most, before she died.” She straightens her spine. “There was a child, a girl.”

Hunk feels his blood blaze and freeze at the same time, a ball of overwhelming emotion scratching his throat.

_Lance didn't tell him that._

Or, Hunk realises with a pang, he doesn't know.

Lance doesn't know that Galra forced a kin out of him, an innocent child to be dissected under their prying eyes, where it's possible they would make duplicates of cells to breed thousands more of them to be used to Galra's selfish needs.

The thought sickens him.

He wets his dry lips, flexing his fingers as he faces her. “Did she survive?”

She shakes her head, unable to think of it more, before she pulls her attention from the past to hold his look, the spotlight above accenting the tired lines of her face. “They took in another siren after that, a younger one, and they were waiting for her to mature properly so that they can start another experiment with Lance, only he managed to escape the moment she was old enough.”

He shifts his gaze to the side, unable to watch the ghosts of her sufferings swirling in her eyes. “What happened to her?”

“Suicide.” She replies bluntly, and he feels his stomach sink at that. “One in which that was made to look like an accident when everything that she did was rather deliberate and thought off.”

He meets her eyes again. “You had a part in that, didn't you?”

She's the one who looks away this time. “It was the only kind of apology I was able to give her before I had to leave. Might as well.”

_“They're still in the hangar.”_

Wretched out towards the present again, Hunk focuses on Pidge's voice. “Where's the hangar, Pidge?” There's a slight tremor in his tone as he tries not to demand the question.

 _“Five floors down, heavily guarded at the entrance that you'd be shot the moment you stick your nose in,”_ she says. _“Better hurry, they're taking their own private jet to leave.”_

“Where are they leaving?” The three of them are already out of the door, running towards the stairs.

“Siberia,” Allura promptly answers, quickly tying her hair into a messy bun as they begin to descend down the steps. “I've heard them talking about it before I left that they were going to leave this place, and continue everything at the facility they have in Siberia to avoid any attention.”

“But, that's away from the sea,” Shiro points out in disbelief. “Why there?”

“Lower chance of Lance escaping, higher in them smothering the torture in the mountains.”

Shiro sneers in disgust.

There's shouts and weapons being fired at their way, and they quickly take cover behind a wall as those bullets blasts against everything they’ve managed to hit, debris flying everywhere.

Hunk takes a deep breath, before he begins to shoot at them back with accuracy he’s been borned and taught with.

Once the doorway is clear, they quickly make their way towards the hangar, Shiro slicing those who tries to stand in their way as they're able to see Zarkon and Sendak standing with a transparent container near the opened door of the plane, and Hunk feels fury searing in his veins when sees Sendak standing in front it with a snarl on his lips, his robotic eye glowing yellow as he aims the sniper in his hands towards their way.

Hunk has his vision tunnels onto Lance while Allura and Shiro begins shooting at more soldiers, where the siren has been kept inside the container that's similar to the one back at the room. Blue eyes flashes with recognition as he flattens himself against the glass, fin swaying in the water. Even from a distance, Hunk can see the way Lance has no strength to break himself out, where it's obvious that they’ve drugged him again to prevent him from making a fuss as they’re about to put him inside the jet.

Without warning, Hunk takes a clear shot at the pilots seated inside the plane, killing them instantly before he's aiming at the reminder two people standing before him.

Zarkon only watches him, expression impassive as those eyes holds no emotion that can give away what he's thinking. However, Hunk is able to see the way the corner of his mouth tightens when the nozzle is right where his heart is, and he's tempted to take a few more shots to end this horror once and for all so that _no one_ would suffer with Galra’s blood soaked hands for as long as the world is still firm beneath their feet.

It's an ideal thought, even when he has no problems putting down Zarkon's minions just a moment ago _._

But, he's only here for Lance.

“It would be a mistake,” he begins evenly, eyes flickering between Zarkon and Sendak. “to take my husband away from me again.”

Lance bares his teeth into a wicked grin.

 

* * *

 

“Remember the place I told you about?” Hunk asks, fiddling with his fingers from where the seventeen-year-old is sitting on the edge of the rock, his feet dipped in the water. “Garrison?”

Lance gives him a thoughtful look. He has his chin perched on top of his folded arms while half of his body remains in the water, his hair half dry after a while of being submerged. “The school you’ve always talk about?”

Hunk nods. “Yeah.”

“What about it?”

He takes a breath. “I got in.”

Lance blinks, before a smile begins to stretch across his lips. “Why do you look like something bad happened instead?”

Hunk shifts his eyes to the side, now letting his fingers spread on his thighs. “I can only fly back here when I'm on my holidays.”

Something must have clicked, because Lance slowly lifts his head off his arms, staring at him. “When are you leaving?”

“Next week, I just got the letter this morning,” Hunk heaves out a sigh, dragging his eyes back to Lance as those blue eyes only meets his look relentlessly. “I'm sorry this is so short notice-”

“Don't.” The soft command is enough to make Hunk shut his jaw with an inaudible click, sheepishly giving him a smile that makes Lance quirks the corner of his lips. “You told me something like this would happen one day if you get the offer, and you _did,_ and, well,” he smiles genuinely at this. “You deserve this, and it's not like I have the right to stop you from going.”

A puff of breathless laughter escapes past his lips before Hunk can stop it, and that only prompts Lance to arch an eyebrow curiously. “The thing is, I don't-” he shakes his head slightly, shoving his hands into his shorts pockets. “I kinda don't want to leave you.”

He feels the smooth pearls brushing against his fingertips, and wraps his hand around it.

“Don't be an idiot,” Lance snorts, swimming nearer to wrap Hunk's legs with his arms, perching his chin onto his knees. “You have to go. You've been wanting this since we were younger. You even said, I quote, ‘I'm going to be the best astronaut Garrison has and no one will have the guts to compete with me’.”

Laughing, Hunk pokes the centre of his forehead with his index finger, causing Lance to scrunch up his nose. “I did _not_ say that.”

“Somewhere along those lines anyway.” Then, Lance softens his look by letting his cheek rest onto one of his knees, a small smile appearing that Hunk feels the way his heart starts to hammer against his chest. “You have to go, y'know? When else are you gonna get this kind of opportunity?”

Hunk shrugs, letting his finger stray across Lance's cheek before trailing down the angle of his jaw. “Probably never. But,” he drops the hand so that it cups his neck. “I'll miss you.”

It's a small window that opens from the inside, where he has been hiding numerous other things he wishes to say but doesn't have the guts to do so.

But, as it seems, his actions would have given him away.

“I've made something for you,” he continues quickly, feeling the heat dwindling on his face when Lance looks at him with that expression Hunk has learn to pick up some time ago; wonder crossbred with fondness that it leaves him into a sputtering mess. He reaches into his pocket again to bring out the arm brace he’s made, and shock fleets past Lance's features the moment he sees it.

“It's not much, I mean,” Hunk shrugs, embarrassment making him ramble as he let's his thumb run across it. “I made it with all the pearls you've given me when we were kids. Y’know, when we were playing pirates and treasure hunting and we used these little pearls you found to make them as our treasure? Yeah, so I thought I'd make something for you, just because I, y’know,” he clears his throat, offering the brace towards him. “ _wanted_ to.”

Lance doesn't immediately take it like Hunk hopes he would, and instead continues to stare at it as if Hunk stole the crown jewel of his own people and presented it to him at the moment. Hunk's beginning to fidget again, withdrawing the brace slowly that he tries to stomp onto the disappointment that begins to hang heavily in his chest. “I'm sorry-”

A hand grabs his wrist before he can take it back fully, and Hunk watches with wide eyes as Lance plants a palm beside his thigh to haul himself up so that they are eye to eye instead. Hunk's able to feel his scales brushing against his legs, but he's making himself watch the way those bright blues burn his soul with their intensity. “Hunk,” Lance starts hoarsely, some sort of desperation clinging onto his tone as he continues to hold Hunk's wrist beside them. “Are you aware what you're _actually_ doing?”

Hunk gapes at him. “Uh, giving you a present?”

Lance shakes his head furiously. “What you've done to make this for me is actually _much_ more than that. We don't have a word for it, because it can only be shown in a series of actions and emotions that you humans would see it as difficult. But, it includes something like this, and to give _this_ to me,” he brings the brace between them then, pressing it to his chest. “is a sacred gesture to bind yourself to me til the end of time.”

It takes Hunk a while to let the full extend of his words to sink in, and once it does, he feels his brain stutters into a halt that causes his face to burn with a blush. “Are you saying,” he squeaks out. “I'm actually asking you to _marry_ me?”

“If that's your definition of asking someone to spend the rest of their lives with another person, then yes.” A flush spreads itself across the bridge of his nose as Lance shifts his eyes to the side, lowering himself down so that he's in the water again. But, his hand is still holding onto Hunk's wrist, the brace lays on his thigh between them. “It's _that._ ”

Hunk’s confession may have blown out of the water fully at the moment that the thought of going slow about it has been completely sat on.

“Well,” he begins meekly, brushing the brace with his thumb. “You're going to yes, right?”

It's maddening, he doesn't know what he's doing and it’s just his instinct telling him to do things at this point, where he's letting things _be_ as it wants to.

The hand on his wrist yanks him forward, where he crashes into the water with a yelp as he holds onto the brace to prevent it from slipping past his fingers, spluttering slightly when water splashes into his face.

Lance brushes his bangs away from his forehead, and gives him a blinding smile that Hunk only blinks back at him in surprise.

“Did you really think I'd say no?”

 

* * *

 

Hunk sees him slip away after Altea manages to capture Zarkon and Sendak.

And, when he meets the hopeful look glancing at his direction, he swiftly withdraws from the group of people to follow Lance towards the peer.

Hunk only follows behind him, where there's no people to disturb them as he watches the back of his head; the sunset greeting them from the edge of the sea.

He doesn't stop walking when Lance sheds the rob he's given, nor does he say a word when Lance dives into the sea right until he's standing at the very spot Lance used to be.

He waits, letting the cool air brush against his skin and sweep his hair, the residual adrenaline now mulled over by this calming atmosphere, where the heavy weight of worry has been lifted up from his shoulders that he feels light in every molecule of his body, and the urge to just stay like this forever is somewhat inviting.

Lance breaks out of the surface of the water, letting it flutter against his collarbones as he looks at Hunk with an expectant look that makes him realise the extents he does to make sure Lance comes back to him. The consideration of how his friends helps makes him thankful, because he isn't able to go through this far without their help, their complete dedication and trust that he makes a reminder to thank them later.

But, _now-_

Now, he takes off his boots, his vest, plucks off the earpiece to toss it with them on the wooden surface, before he's lowering himself into the water in his T-shirt and pants, sucking in a sharp breath when the freezing temperature hits him hard enough that he's gritting his molars together to prevent himself from shivering.

An exhale escapes past his lips as a hand cups his face, bringing him nearer towards Lance with a delicate touch that makes Hunk lean into it more, to brush his mouth into the palm that holds him with such gentleness it makes his body relax languidly.

Their foreheads rests onto one another, before Lance sighs out a breath. “Stay with me.”

Hunk slides his hands down to his elbows, passing over the smooth surface of the pearls, before holding them loosely. “I’m not like you.”

“You can be,” Lance looks at him then. “I can make you like me.”

The declaration, while exhilarating in its own way, has its errors Hunk isn't sure he's willing to make.

“My mother,” he says quietly, and Lance drops his gaze. “She needs me too.”

They're quiet for a while, not because his statement has rendered them hopeless, but it's something they've managed to snatch to themselves after all the hectic things that's happened before this, a rare feat itself that they're beginning to enjoy.

“Then, let me stay with you.” There's sharp determination in his gaze when Lance leans back to look at him properly, as if daring Hunk to challenge his decision when they both know the consequences that comes with it. “I don't want to- I _need_ to be with you.”

Hunk lets his eyes wander over his face. “I'll age.”

A dry huff of breathless laughter. “And you still doubt my loyalty?”

“Don't do that,” he whispers, now clutching onto his arms, one of his hands right below the pearl brace, and Lance softens his expression into a quiet apology. He takes a deep breath. “I don't want to disappoint you.”

Lance let's his lips graze against his cheek. “You've never, and you won't ever.”

The flash in his eyes has the same effect on Hunk ever since they are younger, and the drum of his heart is enough to make him feel several light years lighter than he ever was. “You are _everything_ to me.”

With a wrap of his arms, Lance brings both of them into the sea, pulling them under until there's no sound that would disturb them, a deafening silence that rings loudly in his ears that Hunk feels at complete _peace_ at the sensation, a striking contrast to the world above that it doesn't make him wonder why Lance asks him to stay in the sea with him.

Like ten years ago, it's Lance who searches his lips, kissing Hunk with such tenderness that’s nothing like they were when they are younger. It makes him weak with lightheadedness, savouring the taste like sweet honey as Hunk only brings him closer.

They're alright.

They're _finally_ home.

 

* * *

 

“Did you know about it?”

Allura watches the two of them disappear among the sea of people, and she threads her fingers together from where she’s sitting on one of the benches, leaning tiredly against it as the medics check on her and the others.

She waits until every nurse has left their group alone, before she turns towards where Shiro has been waiting for her answer. “We did.”

Coran hums from where he's seated beside her, the old bench under them protests loudly as he begins to lean back as well. “I knew Lance belonged to someone the moment I saw the brace he wore. But, I never actually knew that they would be one of us.”

“It'll be hard though,” Pidge says, seated in between Shiro and Keith from where they're on the floor. “Since Hunk would be staying in an apartment.”

Shiro and Keith shares a look over her head. “They'll be moving back to Hawaii,” Keith runs his fingers through his mussed hair, dishevelling it more. “Hunk told us that's where they're going to do once everything is over, there's no way they wanted it more.”

It isn't surprising. After everything they've been through, they deserve such rest.

Allura knows they do.

“Good,” Coran nods. “For their best. I'm sure both of them miss it there.”

Then, he turns towards her, a searching look on his face. “You told him, didn't you?”

She drags her gaze from the group of Altea agents bringing out the cot out of the building, meeting his look evenly with her own. “There's a possibility that he'll break it to him gently.”

He doesn't break his gaze away from her. “You only told Hunk about one of them, haven't you?”

Shiro narrows his eyes at them. “What's this about?”

She works her jaw. “I wasn't sure about the other one, Coran.”

Coran drops his shoulders in defeat. “Allura-”

“I _don't,_ ” she insists, rubbing the side of her face tiredly. “You were there, the results were a success, yes, but it doesn't say just how long the duration will last. There could be a chance it'll be longer than we would expect, or it'll just,” she stops. “Collapse.”

Keith stands up, catching their attention as he puts his hands onto his hips. “What is it that you're not telling us?” He growls. “If you're actually _betraying_ us _-_ ”

“Don't be daft,” Allura snaps, glaring at him. “There's no reason why we would hurt them after we worked hard to save them from harm. I'm only doing this for the consideration of how they'll react if we _did_ tell them.”

“What is it about, anyway?” Pidge cuts in, raising an eyebrow at her. “What’s so important that you're thinking twice about telling Hunk and Lance about,” she gestures vaguely with her hand. “ _whatever_ it is that you think will hurt them in some way or another.”

Allura closes her eyes briefly, before opening them to look at Coran in the eye. He looks back at her with a decision made in his gaze. “We should tell them, call Hunk and Lance as well.”

She sighs, before she's standing up as well. “I don't want to disturb their peace.”

“They'll have to know first,” Shiro interjects as he mimics her movement. “It's about them, after all.”

“What is it?” Pidge asks, all of them straightening themselves up. “What's this about?”

“The second experiment worked,” Coran explains briefly, and Allura doesn't meet his eye as she tries to call for Hunk, murmuring his name into her earpiece for his attention. “We didn't think it would, given the fact that the first one survived for only seven minutes.”

“Coran,” Keith calls out patiently. “What other experiment?”

“Hunk,” she says. “We need you and Lance here with us now.”

_“What is it?”_

"Just,” she sighs. “Come. It's important enough that it needs both of your attention.”

There's a pause. _“We'll be there.”_

“Thank you.” She cuts the line.

It's a minute later that Hunk and Lance make their way towards them, a fresh pair of clothes are given to them that she's able to see from a mile away. She eyes their damp hair suspiciously, before choosing to ignore it completely as she turns onto her heel, walking towards the entrance with rigid spine and tensed shoulders; she makes sure they don't see the way her hand is shaking slightly. “Come on. We’ll have to bring this back later without anyone knowing, this is another thing that shouldn’t be exposed to anyone.”

“I'm already calling them,” Coran informs her, tapping on the transparent surface of his tablet. “More agents should arrive soon to help us later on.”

The way there is already embedded into her mind, where they pass by the room they used to keep Lance to make their way towards the end of the hallway, before she turns around the corner to find the steel door is still intact, greeting her like a reaper waiting for her death.

She dials the pin number by the pad with flitting fingers, before the door unlocks with a loud click that all of them are introduced into another hallway with a lift perched at the end.

“I'll have to inform you,” she begins as she let's all of them walk in first, before pushing the door closed that the slam of it bounces off the walls. “that this experiment is something that not even Sendak knows. Zarkon wanted it to be that way, and the only doctors he could trust were only Haggar, Coran, and I. Unfortunately for him,” she let's Coran push the button of the lift, and the grilled gates open noisily before all of them crowded in. “Both of us had other plans.”

“It's something that's been done over and over again,” Coran picks up from where she left as they go down, his expression grim. “We've done 35 trials, to which all of them failed in the end, until one would have been a success, if not for the fact it had been too weak.”

“You still haven't told us what this experiment is.” Shiro points out, crossing his arms.

Coran meets Hunk's eyes. “Allura told you already.”

Hunk purses his lips, looking away.

“However, I was checking through the place when all of you were getting patched up, when I stumbled across another one that I thought was shut down. I checked the vitals, and imagine my surprise when it's still on going.”

Hunk snaps his head up to look at him with unconcealed surprise.

The lift stops, and they all step out into another hallway, but it has white and clean walls instead of those rusted metal from before, purple LED lights shine dimly against the walls as their shoes makes little sound against the marble floor.

“Hunk,” Allura hears the way Lance murmurs his name. “What is this?”

Allura let's her hand rest onto the pad to let it scan her identity, before the doors slide apart to reveal a lab, cleaner than the last time she's been here.

She curls her fingers into a fist to hide it's trembling. 

She makes a beeline towards another door at the end of the room, letting the pad scan her hand again before it opens to reveal what she's been looking for.

The deafening silence hits her like a wave, and she let's out a soft breath through her nose to calm herself down.

And, if she listens carefully, she can hear the sound of a heartbeat coming from the machine beside the large transparent container.

“Lance,” she says quietly, walking towards it with slow steps.

  
“Meet your son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end. Thank you so much for reading this, and any thoughts that you'd like to share would be lovely!


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